Feasibility Study 1st in the FS Series
by Ms-Maggs
Summary: All Cast starts w GS then expands to NOC,GrOC and others over 8 series installments. Delves into the backstories & personal lives of the characters as the story progresses. SERIES Ships:GS,NOC,GrOC,CW,BrLH. Com,Rom,angst. Complete
1. Default Chapter

**Author's Notes:  
**_After 65 chapters and 675 reviews, Feasibility Study (Sequel to Gravity) was pulled on 4/13 by the website when it was reported as an 'interactive story'. I have reposted from scratch eliminating what I hope was the violation and the story is now presented in 8 series segments._

**Summary (Picks up where Gravity left off):**

After seven months together, Sara and Grissom suddenly wonder if there's room for three. So, being the analytical scientists that they are, they conduct a study to determine whether or not a baby is feasible. During the course of the study they're confronted by many situations they never considered 'in scope' and each one leads them to analyze much more than the original question.

Nick and Carrie met on the last day of the Mike Rodgers trial and were instantly smitten. On their first date they bonded, sharing their similar stories of childhood trauma and their mutual passion for crime fighting. But is a relationship that started as 'love at first sight', strong enough to get them to the altar...and through the unexpected challenges that lie ahead?

Greg is working in the field and playing it, finally seeing the girl action he's longed for since he was a teen. He's carefree... but fate is ready to rock his world.

Warrick, Catherine, Brass and even Lady Heather are all here, as well as lots of new characters, some good and some evil. This CSI family is growing and like most families...it's a bit dysfunctional but when the going gets rough, they find out it's nice to have someone around who cares.

If you would like to read an intimate and detailed exploration of the CSIs' personal lives and their backstories, and you enjoy a story that shifts between drama, humor, romance and angst, then I think you'll like the ride.

The ships in the ENTIRE series are: primarily GS, GrOC, NOC, but also has CW,BrLH, HOC. Every couple will not have equal time on the front burner and the friendships between all the characters are just as important to me as the romances between the couples and a lot of time is spent on the friendships. Just so no one is misled. :-) I've labeled the stories to show which couples and characters are front burner while all characters are in every story...

Feasibility Study (FS 1-20) GS (primary focus) , NOC, Gr, B, C

Caving Under Pressure(FS 21-28) GS, GrOC (major Greg storyline begins), C (and some CW), N ( a little NOC)

Repercussions (29-36) GS, GrOC, BrLH, NOC

Second Chances (37-54) GS (Angst/Including Grissom backstory), GrOC, NOC

Birthday Boys (55- 62) GS, GrOC, NOC (in-depth relationship development begins)

Bluffs, Encounters and Calls (63-71) GS, GrOC, NOC (Nick backstory and Carrie backstory start to develop)

Losing It (72 -89) GS (Gil angst), NOC (Nick angst), GrOC (Greg backstory/angst)

Getting It Back (90 -102 ) All couples/All cast

* * *

**Feasibility Study  
****(1st in the FS series)**

**Chapter 1: News from the Front  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by KJT**

**April 29, 2005  
****3:15 a.m. **

After spending the last several hours painstakingly reviewing the contents of six trash cans, Catherine and Sara sought refuge in the break room for fifteen minutes of decompression time.

While Catherine was on the couch flipping through a gossipy celebrity magazine, Sara poured their coffee and decided to liven up the conversation by stirring the pot "Catherine, why do you still need to salivate over the boys in those magazines now that you have a real man in your life?"

"Sara, I'm monogamous, not dead." Tossing the vapid publication aside, she gave a laborious sigh. "Anyway, why should I change? Warrick didn't give up his porn obsession and daily trips to the Pussycat Lounge just because he has me in his life."

In mid-pour Sara froze.

"That was a joke, Sara."

"I knew that." Relieved, she continued filling the last mug.

"The girl can wear La Perla in the bedroom but she's still uptight in the world beyond her front door."

Extending one mug, Sara smiled. "What exactly will be the statute of limitations on the La Perla?"

"I'll drop it as soon as I find something equally scandalous to use as fodder for my amusement." Taking the mug she kicked her feet up on the chair across from her and closed her eyes.

Joining Catherine on the couch, Sara delicately asked, "I've been thinking about something. Remember when you were teasing me about my drawstring pajamas…"

"Yeah."

After glancing around to make sure no one was on their way into the room, she said, "Do you really go home exhausted after pulling a double and put on risqué lingerie? I mean sometimes isn't _sleep_ the first thing on your mind? Do you and Warrick _ever _go without…"

Eyes still closed, Catherine grinned. "Are you asking me this in a sisterly 'I'm curious what's normal' way or are you looking to compare statistics and declare a winner?"

"I'm definitely _not_ competing because…"

"Smart girl." Opening her eyes Catherine answered the question. "Yes, of course we sometimes we opt to sleep and no, I don't always wear slinky lingerie."

"Thanks." Feeling at ease with her sex life as well as her comfy collection of cotton pajama bottoms and matching tank shirts, Sara settled back against the couch.

"Yeah…sometimes when I'm too tired to put on lingerie, I just go to bed naked. This way when Warrick and I wake up refreshed, we don't have to waste any time."

"You're so full of it." Shaking her head Sara laughed into her steaming mug. "Is Warrick all moved in yet?"

"No, we still have half of his apartment to pack. Between my bum shoulder and his stitched up hand we're not the most effective moving team." Glancing over at Sara, she decided to do a little probing of her own. "Speaking of moving in…how's the ant farm?"

"What makes you think we started it?" While taking a sip of coffee she noted Catherine's eye roll.

"Like the Bug King was going to let it sit unopened for more than hour after we left. How soon did he open it?"

Gleefully she admitted the truth. "Twenty minutes after you left."

"Uh huh." Catherine tipped her mug and drank.

"We're doing a great job with it." She was powerless to stop the smile erupting on her face.

"We? _We're_ doing a great job with it?" The pronoun piqued her curiosity. "So it's a joint venture? You're co-parenting?"

"Well the gift was for both of us." To herself she chuckled, if only Catherine knew the conversation the ant farm had started she'd drop the La Perla jokes and start in a whole new direction.

Surprised, Catherine asked, "So you actually step foot in the bug room on a daily basis now? I thought you didn't like going in there."

"I don't have to because the ant farm is in the bedroom."

"What!" She choked on her coffee. "But I thought the rule was 'no bugs in the bedroom'?"

"Well these are different because they're _our_ bugs." She knew the answer left her wide open and prepared for the onslaught.

"Oh! So he brings his bugs to the new house and they're forced to live in a separate room like second class citizens but the two of you have your own insects and they're part of the family. There's a term for people like you, Sara."

"I'm sure you're going to tell me what it is."

"Wicked step-mother!"

Greg entered the break room in time to hear the women cracking up. Tired from piecing together shattered glass, he remarked, "Oh cool…I could use a joke."

Catherine didn't miss a beat. "Then I suggest you check out your hair in the mirror."

Always the target of teasing, Greg snipped, "I can't wait for Grissom to hire Nick's replacement so I won't be the newbie CSI anymore and you can pick on someone else."

"I wouldn't count on it, Greg." Sara sadly informed him. "She hasn't stopped picking on me since you arrived. But take it from me…they wouldn't pick on you if they didn't like you."

"That's what Sara tells herself to get through it anyway." Having reached her laugh quota, Catherine asked, "Seriously, can we help you with something, Greg? You look a little overwhelmed."

"Yeah." Scratching his head, he realized he had put in too much gel earlier. "I've…uh…been working on piecing this glass door together for…I don't even know how long…and now I need someone to confirm I've accurately identified the point of impact.

"Sounds like a job for Sara." Catherine groaned as she closed her eyes again. "I'll report back for trash duty in five."

Standing up, Sara smiled. "I'd be happy to help, Greg."

"Thanks."

Together they walked out of the break room and down the hall into the lab.

"Sara does my…"

"Looks fine. I hear some women actually like chaotic hair." Stopping in front of the glass covered table, she folded her arms. "Okay, show me your impact point."

"I think it's here." He pointed to the area.

"You got it." After taking a deep breath she blissfully said, "Next you want to look for Wallner Lines on the radial cracks to determine the direction of the breaking force." Ever since she and Grissom discussed the topic of Wallner Lines over rum and foreplay she warmed at the mere mention of the words.

"Wallner lines?" Greg parroted. "On the radial cracks? Could you give me more to go on?"

Grissom walked into the room just in time to hear Greg's questions. "Sounds like you're getting a tutorial on glass fractures." Stopping next to Sara, he grinned. "And you couldn't be in better hands. Sara has intimate knowledge of the subject." Normally he wouldn't allow himself to get distracted but after a hellacious week he was ready for a little levity.

"But why rely on me when you have an expert right here to explain." Stepping closer to her partner Sara said, "Grissom I'd _love_ to hear you tell him the 4R rule."

While looking right into Sara's gleaming eyes, he lingered over the words. "Ridges…on Radial Cracks…are at Right Angle…to the Rear."

"Yeah…that's just how I remember it." Suddenly she wished she had the power to make Greg disappear.

Greg, feeling woefully inexperienced in the presence of glass fracture gurus, sighed. "The two of you really love your jobs, don't you?"

"Yes." They simultaneously replied without unlocking their gazes.

"Hey, Greg..." Grissom pointed to the door while staring at Sara. "Can you run over to DNA and see if you can help Max churn out Catherine's results. She's hounded me about them three times tonight and I'd really appreciate it."

"Sure, boss." Greg headed for the door mumbling. "I guess you guys finally realize how great I was in DNA now that you have to wait for stuff." It was hard going from DNA top dog to CSI bottom feeder but he wasn't ready to throw in the towel just yet. "I'll stay with Max and until he gets them done."

Greg's words were lost on Sara and Grissom who were lost in each other's eyes.

"You made Greg disappear." Sara chuckled lightly. "I was wishing I could do that."

Wishing he could do more, he exhaled his frustration on a breath. "I wanted to steal a few minutes with you because it's been a busy week."

"Sure has." Between Nick's unexpected switch to day shift, Warrick and Catherine's injuries and unusually heavy caseload, they had pulled doubles and triples all week, which meant when they weren't working they were sleeping or getting ready to go to work. "I've missed you." Her voice ached for his touch.

"And I've missed you." Grissom replied with longing. "Today, we need to leave here on time, turn off our pagers and phones, get some rest and when we wake up this evening..."

"I'll be counting the minutes." Her smile grew.

"Sara…since we're alone, I have something I want to tell you and I think it's better I tell you now rather than when we're in bed and not in the talking mood." Actually, he was afraid if he told her while they were in bed it would somehow kill _the mood_.

From his jacket pocket he pulled a folded letter-size paper. "I know we haven't spoken about this since…"

When Catherine saw Grissom holding her lab results in his hand, she burst into the room, rushed over and snatched them. "It's about damn time! You need to talk to Max because I can't work with this kind of turnaround!" Papers in hand she marched toward the door. "Greg never took this long!"

"Catherine that's not…"

"Oh!" At the door she stopped and gingerly refolded the papers. "Uh…these aren't my lab results from DNA." Returning it to Grissom she averted her eyes. "These are _your _results. Your _personal _lab results." Mortified, she began backing out of the room. "Sorry about that I shouldn't have assumed they were mine."

Irritated, he gladly confirmed her assessment. "No…you shouldn't have." Of course without Catherine's nosiness, Sara would be in San Francisco, he would be miserable and the lab results wouldn't have been necessary. So as irritated as he was…he couldn't be angry.

Smiling, she attempted to make light of the situation. "But hey…it's not like you have anything to be embarrassed about, right?"

Cringing, Grissom replied, "Yeah…I'll be the judge of that."

"Does anyone care to clue me in?" Sara snipped at Grissom. "Lab results? Honey, why am I always the last to know about your health issues? If you won't tell me, maybe Catherine will."

As she recovered from her faux pas Catherine began to see the humorous potential of her intimate knowledge. "I think General Grissom should report the news from the front." Before walking out the door, she announced, "Sara, by the way…you don't have to worry about La Perla jokes anymore."

Perplexed by Catherine's cyptic comments and Grissom's flustered expression, Sara prodded, "Exactly what kind of personal lab results are listed on that paper?"

Shaking off his embarrassment, he confessed. "They're uh…feasibility study related."

"You mean…" Sara gasped. "General Grissom? News from the front? Are we talking about…" Anxiety seizing her, she barely squeezed out the word. "Soldiers?"

"Yeah." With pride, he handed over the piece of paper. "I went to the doctor on Monday."

Taking the paper, she frantically exclaimed, "Monday! But we only talked about it on Saturday afternoon. You called first thing Monday morning?"

"Yes and the office happened to have a cancellation for that afternoon." Concerned over her reaction, he thought maybe he misinterpreted her intent. "I'm sorry; I thought we were serious about investigating. Did I …?"

"I was serious…_we_ were serious…but six days later and you already have your results?" Breathing rapidly she blurted, "You're always so damn _slow_ to act on personally significant things. You've thrown me by acting so fast on this particular issue. Why so fast?" Her mind raced with possible explanations…the most alarming being that he was ready _now_.

Confident they were still on the same page about the study, he relaxed. "Simple answer…once a guy knows there's a chance duty might call, he wants to be certain the troops are capable of getting the job done. It was on my mind."

"You were worried?"

"I was curious." He laughed. "And that's not the same thing. I'm a scientist. I needed proof."

Clutching the paper she tried to open it several times but couldn't bring herself to read it. To read it would make the study…the potential outcome…everything…so real.

"Sara…" Reaching out he put his hand on her shoulder and smiled. "Speaking as an expert in biology I assure you…you won't get pregnant from _reading_ the results." Then remembering where he was, he quickly removed his hand.

After cracking a nervous smile she needled him. "There's that word coming from your mouth in reference to me…_again_. Another slip?" Taking a deep breath she opened the paper to review the results. "Hmm…"

Deciding humor was the best way to battle her nerves she gave a laughter-laced analysis of count, mobility, morphology and motility. "Number of troops…one hundred million strong. They know how to mobilize. Plus…they're in excellent shape and physically conditioned for the arduous journey. An army like this will most certainly be able to answer the call should they be summoned for active duty." Re-folding the paper she chuckled, "Very nice scores. Not that I was worried."

Enjoying her levity, he quipped, "I've always done well on tests."

"Want to hang it on the fridge when we get home?"

"Either that or frame it." After tucking the results away he shoved his hands in his pockets to fight the urge to hold her. "Sorry my doctor's visit came as a surprise. Trust me…I would have enjoyed having you with me to handle things."

"I bet!" Her laughter deepened. "Did _it_ take a long time?"

"Are you kidding?" Her hearty laughter was infectious and he quickly succumbed. "What man belabors the point when there isn't a woman involved?"

Finally catching her breath, Sara said, "Let's uh…look for Greg's Wallner lines while we talk about the study."

Sweetly he replied, "Now I know you're nervous."

Side by side they leaned over the table. With their backs to the row of windows their facial expressions wouldn't give them away and passersby would assume they were just working through the glass fracture evidence.

Sara kicked off the conversation. "So I guess it's my turn to get checked out."

"There's still plenty of time so you don't have to rush if you're not..."

"I already called for an appointment on Monday morning but the first they can see me is three weeks from now."

Baffled by her behavior he asked, "If you called first thing then why were you so tense about me calling for an appointment right away?"

"Because…" She bumped her shoulder into his. "We're so in sync on this it's unnerving. Neither of us thought about it, then the word pops up and suddenly we're both thinking about it. We agree to investigate. And now….we both made appointments on the same day. What's the significance?"

"We're both anal-retentive, perfectionists who can't stand the thought of being the one who will cause the endeavor to fail?"

Chuckling, she placed her hand on top of his and lifted it to a radial crack in the glass. "There's one explanation."

Slipping his hand out from under hers, he moved them both to a different crack. "And here's another." Locking his eyes on hers, he whispered, "It was the easiest part of the study to fulfill. It's purely technical. And…in the unfortunate event something was seriously wrong with one or both of us, this particular study would end and we wouldn't have to think about it and make a decision because the decision would have been dictated for us."

"Yeah…" Lacing her fingers over his, she smiled. "I see one more." Taking his hand, she guided it to a third radial crack. "We were hoping for some good news quickly because we really didn't want the study to end just yet."

"I think this crack is the most significant one."

"Yes." Eyes locked, their faces were inches apart.

Overwhelmed by the moment, Grissom murmured, "Do you have any idea how much I want to kiss you right now?"

"I think I can relate." She purred.

He inched dangerously closer. "I've never been much of a bad boy but…"

"You keep playing with fire, Scarecrow and you're gonna get burned because I won't settle for one kiss." To make the tease more effective, she lowered her voice to a sultry whisper. "After one kiss, I'll want another…a longer, slower kiss that will drive me wild and when I'm burning up with desire…a kiss, no matter how deep, won't be enough to satisfy my hunger so I'll need more…much more, and I'll need it right here…right now. Still want to kiss me?"

Caught between a rock and a hard place, he squeaked, "You're not helping my judgment."

"I think you're all talk. Even though it's four a.m. and we're alone, you know you would _never_ kiss me in the lab. Would you?" Eager, she wet her lips. "You're bluffing."

"Am I?" As he moved in for the kill he met with disappointment instead of her lips.

"Not gonna happen."

While he watched her slip further away he groaned, "That was one hell of a tease, Honey."

"Well I never had a chance to play hard to get when I was chasing you so I thought I'd try it on for size now." Chuckling she broke the bad news. "Sorry but this incredibly tortuous sexual tension we're experiencing will have to remain unresolved until an appropriate opportunity presents itself."

"And when it does, it's going to be…"

The sound of the lab door swinging open caught their ear and they turned their focus to the glass on the table.

Sara whispered, "See…we would have been busted."

"Catherine has her results!" Greg announced as he bolted into the room. "Funny how quickly things happen when I'm involved, huh?" Resuming his place at the table he said, "Okay you were just about to show me how to find radial cracks.

"Grissom and I already identified them." Sara cheerily announced.

"But Sara would be happy to review the information with you. She _loves_ talking about Wallner Lines."

"Damn." Greg stood in awe. "The two of you are glowing over a bunch of shattered glass. Seriously, am I in the wrong job? When am I going to feel as passionate as you about this stuff?"

"I doubt that will ever happen, Greg." Grissom, finally able to compose himself, headed for the door. "Oh and Sara… the County can't afford to pay you any more this week so…supervisor's orders…no overtime today. When your shift ends you run for the door!"

"Understood." She nodded while mouthing the words _can't wait_.

"Greg…you stay until you have a full report on that glass. I don't care how long it takes you." To be more convincing, he sternly added, "I want answers on my desk by my next shift. No later! Got it?"

"Got it. Absolutely."

When Grissom was gone, Greg turned to Sara. "Damn. What's up with him? He's awfully militant today."

Sara cracked a smile big enough to rival the radial cracks in the glass. "Yeah."

* * *

Thanks for reading!

Maggs


	2. Too Much Iinformation

**Feasibility Study**

**Chapter 2:** **Too Much Information  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by KJT**

**May 24, 2005 (Day 32)  
****9:48 a.m. **

Freshly showered and shaved, Sara knew she was physically ready for her OB/Gyn appointment. It was her lack of mental preparedness that kept her pacing the sidewalk outside the doctor's office. Checking her watch she noted she was already three minutes past the suggested fifteen minute pre-appointment arrival time.

Mumbling she continued to wear a groove in the cement. "You've come to this office every year for the last four years so it's not new. The only new part is the reason. You're going to be late if you…"

"Miss?" The geriatric male parking lot security guard flashed a cautious smile. "Are you looking for the entrance to the Psychiatric Outpatient Center?"

"What?" Realizing the guy thought she was nuts for talking and pacing she corrected his perception. "I'm not lost…geographically or mentally." To herself, she admitted the latter wasn't exactly true but she wasn't about to confess it to a stranger.

He backed away slowly. "Miss, I was only trying to help."

Realizing she had a choice between remaining outside under the watchful eye of a security guard who thought she was a few cards shy of a full deck and entering the familiar doctor's office she chose to step inside.

Once inside she knew she made the wrong choice.

The office was abuzz with estrogen-fueled conversation and every woman looked like Buddha, only more stylishly dressed. Why didn't I notice this stuff when I was here all the other times, she wondered?

"Miss?" The cherubic receptionist cheerily called out.

Sara pointed to herself.

"Yes, you." The receptionist held up a clipboard. "You need to sign in."

"Oh. Right." Forcing a polite smile, she walked over to the counter and filled out the required information.

Name…Sara Sidle

Insurance Changes...None

Appointment Time…10:00

Doctor's Name…Dr. Simon

Reason for Your Visit…

Her suspicions were confirmed, there would be a trick question.

With a death grip on the pen, she struggled for an answer. What was the reason for the visit? Curiosity? No, too vague. An inquiry into a potential life choice? No, too wordy.

"Miss?" The receptionist smiled.

Sara recognized that smile. It was identical to the security guard's outside.

"Are you having a problem remembering your reason for being here?"

"No…I." She chuckled. "It's…you know you don't leave a person a lot of room to explain and really I'm not so sure people should be required to list a reason when their name is right there for everyone to see. I can't be the first person to bring that to your attention, can I?"

"Actually yes."

"Oh."

"But you don't have to write it down if you don't want to. How about I run through the choices and you pick the one that suits you best and it will be between you and me."

"Okay." Sara dropped the pen.

"Annual exam?"

"No."

"Medical problem?"

"No."

"Pregnancy Test?"

"No."

"Are you looking for the Psychiatric Outpatient Center and walked in the wrong door?"

"No!"

"Want to catch up on your magazine reading?"

"What? No."

"Ah!" The receptionist nodded. "Someone as tense as you can only be here for one thing…a preconception consultation and exam."

Sara nodded. "That one."

Reaching into a cabinet, the receptionist grabbed stack of papers. "Newbies get the jumbo pack and a gift." Smiling she handed over the stack and a commemorative pink and blue pen. "Fill out the ones that are highlighted and the rest are informational. Good luck, Sweetie."

"Thanks."

Nervously scanning the room she searched for a seat in a private area.

"This is the only one left." A blissfully happy woman with a bouncy blonde ponytail and burgeoning belly announced as she cleared a magazine off the seat.

"Um…" Knowing there was no other option, Sara walked over and smiled. "Thanks."

Expecting that to be the extent of their chit-chat, Sara was horrified to hear the bubbly woman say, "I see you have the newbie packet. How exciting! This one will be my fourth so if you have any questions I'd be happy to give you the scoop! My name is Debbie, what's yours?"

"Actually I have a lot of paperwork to complete so I can't…"

"Oooh that's right." Debbie winked. "I'll just read a magazine."

"Thanks." Relieved the conversation was over Sara removed the clip from the stack of papers and got to work.

Obstetric history. Knowing she didn't have a history or a clue when it came to babies, she took her pen and wrote NONE across the form. This is going to be easy, she thought.

Gynecological history. Scanning the form she didn't see any major challenges and completed it rapidly, only getting stuck on the number of sexual partners question because there were some from Boston she didn't want to remember. Finally, after completing the rest of the page, she wrote the number thirteen even though she felt it was highly misrepresentative of her sexual history. Eleven of the thirteen were in the same reckless two year period at Harvard. Brushing off her discomfort from the bad memory, she moved on to the next form.

Medical history. Finding nothing difficult on this one she breezed through it.

Vaccination history. A no-brainer, she wrote CURRENT across the top with a side note stating it was a job requirement.

Emotional history. And it had been going so well. Knowing there wouldn't be any easy questions and she'd have too many affirmative answers, she tensed. The questions were bad enough but filling it out six inches away from Debbie's curious eyes, she couldn't do it. Folding it up, she stuffed it in her pocket and went on to the next form.

Lifestyle Questions. Drugs…never. Alcohol…not in excess. Caffeine? Panic shot through her and she blurted out loud, "No caffeine!"

Debbie took Sara's exclamation as a cry for help. "That's right. Too much caffeine can affect the health of the baby. No coffee!"

"No coffee?" Two words couldn't have elicited more terror.

"I don't eat chocolate either."

"No chocolate!"

"Especially not when you're breastfeeding because…"

"Stop." Sara held up her hand. "I'm not even pregnant yet." She froze and reviewed her words. Did I just say _pregnant_? Did I just say **_yet_**? That's when she knew the terror of her previous words, 'no coffee', had been trumped. Were the words a slip? An expression? Or were they…

"Sorry…I didn't mean to overwhelm you." Debbie patted the newbie on the shoulder. "Just make sure you get plenty of protein…stick with the lean ones, chicken, turkey and…"

"I'm a vegetarian so I only eat fish."

Debbie gasped. "There's too much mercury in fish to eat it all the time! And you can't eat swordfish, shark or mackerel at all. And definitely no sushi!"

"I…uh…really need to get back to my paperwork now." Turning slightly, Sara focused on the next sheet while trying to calm the tension rising within. Genetic Screening. Her eyes immediately picked up on the bolded writing. If you'll be 35 or older when you give birth you may be referred to a genetics counselor. She sunk in the chair. Already plagued with inadequacies she didn't need to be reminded her biological clock would only tock for a short time and her body might fight the process.

"Debbie Hart." The nurse called out.

"Right here."

Sara breathed her first sigh of relief.

After fighting her way out of her chair Debbie gave Sara a thumbs up. "Good luck, newbie."

"Thanks." Finally free to fill out her papers in peace, Sara retrieved the Emotional History form.

Before she could make a mark on the paper, another rotund woman plopped into Debbie's old chair. "Don't worry about what that other woman said. I never gave up chocolate and my kids don't have third eyes."

"Good to know." Once more, Sara gave up filling out the form and stuffed it in her pocket.

"What you really need to know are the things no one speaks about. They don't speak about them until _after_ you have a baby and are part of the club because if they spoke about them before you'd never sign up."

"Um…like what?"

The nurse's voice boomed. "Sara Sidle"

"That's me." Clutching her stack of papers she jumped up from the chair. Unnerved from not hearing the secret information she reluctantly followed the nurse down the hall.

* * *

Nick rapped on Grissom's office doorway, "Glad you're still here." 

"Hey Nick." Grissom dropped his pen and motioned for him to enter. "Take a seat."

"I have an invitation for you and Sara."

Even though it had only been a month, it didn't surprise him. "You and Carrie tying the knot? Which chapel?"

"No." He chuckled. "Not yet anyway." They hadn't even talked about it but he knew with certainty the day would come.

"I have an invitation from Wendy and Paul Blake." Nick extended the envelope. "They want to have you and Sara over for dinner to thank you for the whole Rodgers thing. Real low key…only other people will be Carrie and me and of course the Blake's four kids. They're great kids…eleven year old twin boys, and two girls, the cutest little four year old and a baby. Carrie is so great with them too." Realizing he was gushing, he refocused. "Anyway, I think it means a lot to Wendy to do this. Now I know you and Sara don't usually like these kinds of gatherings but I'd really appreciate it if…"

"We'll be there." Tucking the opened invitation in his pocket, he smiled.

Chuckling he teased, "You don't need to ask _the little woman_ first?"

"If Sara heard you call her 'the little woman' she'd flip."

"So would Carrie." Nick relaxed into the chair. "So, you want to know what was discussed at the last departmental meeting."

"No." Rolling his eyes, he grumbled, "But Brass is making you tell me, isn't he?"

"Yep."

"Well, make it quick." He wanted to be there for Sara when she returned from the doctor. "I need to get home."

Laughing once more, he replied, "I wouldn't want you to get in trouble with either of _your bosses_, so I'll talk fast."

* * *

As the nurse removed the blood pressure cuff from Sara's arm, she remarked, "Pressure's a little high for you according to our records from your last visits. 

"I'm…uh…a little more nervous than usual."

"Did they pounce on you in the waiting room?" The nurse huffed. "They love scaring the crap of women like you."

"Like me?"

"Wide-eyed and terrified over the prospect of motherhood." As the nurse wrote her notes she droned on. "You sit out there surrounded by the Stepford Moms thinking you couldn't possibly become one of them. You love your career and can't imagine staying home all day wiping drool off one end of a screaming baby and wiping poop off the other. You start wondering if you even have a maternal bone in your body and just when you are ready to run for the door, that's when they strike with the horror stories."

"That about sums it up."

"The doctor will be in momentarily," The nurse announced before leaving the room.

With time to kill, she reached for a magazine from the rack on the wall. The lead article was titled, Career, Baby, Romance…You Can Have It All! The secrets are inside! "Finally some good news."

A knock on the door tore Sara away from the magazine before she learned the secrets. "Come in."

Dr. Simon, a petite forty-something woman with fire-red hair and the energy of a puppy on methamphetamine, burst into the room. "So you're ready to have a baby! Congratulations!"

"Well I…" Still unable to say the 'b' word and still having a hard time imagining herself as a 'm' and Grissom as a 'd', the doctor's candid demeanor was a bit unnerving. "Not sure yet. Just checking into the possibility."

"Good girl!" You're smart enough to plan ahead before you get pregnant." She glanced at her file. "But of course you're smart; I see here your highest level of education is a Ph.D."

"Actually I'm almost…"

"So!" She tore through the forms. "No obstetrical history to discuss so let's look at your gynecological history. Oh."

"What?" It was the first time she had ever seen her doctor slow down. "Is there something wrong?"

"Well…" The doctor cleared her throat. "It's not my place to pass judgment but as a physician I have to advise you that having thirteen sexual partners will make identifying the baby's father a bit of a challenge. Paternity tests can't be performed safely until after the baby's birth. Or are you doing this on your own and don't want the baby's father in the picture?"

"What? No!" Sara protested. "I thought you were asking for a _lifetime _total. Eleven of those were from my drunken college days when I was looking for love in all the wrong places. I only have one partner _now_. The same one I've had for five years. Well we weren't sexually active for five years…actually we were barely active at all unless you call flirting and frustration activity but we managed to get it together about eight months ago and now we're great,_ really _great so great in fact that's why we're investigating the idea of having a …" Finally remembering this was the OB/Gyn's office and not her therapist's, Sara stopped baring her soul and stuck to the facts. "The correct answer is one. One sexual partner."

"That's a relief…the fact you have one partner and that you finally got it together with him after five years." Smiling, Dr. Simon flipped to the next form. "Medical is fine, Vaccinations are current. Lifestyle…hmm."

"I know, too much caffeine, too much fish."

"They got to you in the waiting room, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Don't worry, you'll leave here with a bunch of books and pamphlets. Shouldn't be too tough for an educated woman like you to figure out. And don't think for a minute you have to give up your career or life as you know it. I have a husband, three kids, a retriever and this medical practice." Flipping through her papers she asked, "Hmm…they must have forgotten to give you the Emotional History form."

"It's uh…in my pocket." A nervous smile twittered across her face as she pulled it out. "It wasn't really private enough out there to complete it. I'm…I'm not having any current problems…well I'm in therapy but it's all about the past…childhood stuff and some related issues. I've already discussed this issue with my therapist and she feels I could handle having a…um…and I'm not taking any medication."

"Not a problem. Just keep your therapist in the loop and if you do get pregnant, we'll both want to monitor you very carefully post-partum." The doctor stood and offered a supportive smile while snapping on a fresh set of gloves. "Hey, if everyone with childhood issues was banned from being a parent the schools would be a lot less crowded around here."

"Thanks."

"I will need you to fill out that form though. So I have it on record." Winking, the doctor flipped the chair switch. "After all these years of work stoppage, it's time to see if the factory is still operational. Ready?"

Sara's breathing quickened. "For _all _of it or just this part?"

"Just this part."

"Yes."

* * *

Catherine wound her way through the aisles of bedding still uncertain which to select. Although Warrick said he'd sleep on a bed of nails if it made her happy, she wanted to pick something that suited them both. Blues? Reds? Plaids? Solids? Why was this so difficult? 

After another fifteen minutes and no decision, it struck her. Call Sara for a consult.

Grabbing her cell phone, she punched in Sara's speed dial code and waited.

"Hello."

"Hey, did I catch you at a bad time?"

"Uh…I just finished an internal exam with my doctor and I'm sitting here waiting for them to take me for an egg hunt in the ultrasound room."

"Sounds fun!" Catherine continued to wander the aisles. "So now that we know the army is capable of launching a successful assault are you fortifying the battlefield to hold off the attack or are you doing all you can to make it an easy victory for the troops?"

"I'm doing reconnaissance. And I only told you where I was because I have a question and since you've already had a…"

Ever since Catherine accidentally read Grissom's test results she tried her best not to give them too much grief but some days…she just couldn't help herself. "Say the word or I won't answer the question."

"Baby."

"Nice job." She chuckled as she ran her hands over a red satin comforter. "What's your question?"

"There was this woman in the waiting room and she said there is stuff no one tells you before you get…pregnant…that if you knew you wouldn't…"

"She was blowing smoke up your ass, Sara." Moving on to the next bedding ensemble she explained, "It's like when a new girl shows up to dance in a strip joint. All the old-timers try to freak her out. Women are vicious that way. They smell fear and they pounce."

"So there isn't anything to be worried about?"

"You mean besides the non-stop nausea, violent vomiting, phenomenal pain, and the permanent ravages to your body like a giant episiotomy tear, stretch marks and a weakened pelvic floor?"

"Thanks, old-timer, you still have a lot of pounce left in you. Now why did you call me?"

"I'm trying to make a decision." Catherine glanced from one display to the next.

"Join the club."

She chuckled. "Yeah but if I end up not liking what I choose, I can donate my choice to Goodwill."

* * *

Briefcase in hand, Grissom hurried out from behind his desk to the door. 

"Not so fast." Brass blocked the way. "It's been four weeks. Are you ever going to pick a replacement for Nick?"

"I'm working on it."

"How many candidates have you interviewed?"

"None." He checked his watch. "This really isn't a good time."

"How about you handle this decision the same way you handle decisions at home…have Sara tell you what to do."

"Very funny." Then he realized it wasn't a bad idea. "How about I grab the applications and look over them later."

"Yeah, good plan." Dropping his hand on Grissom's shoulder he warned, "I want a decision in two weeks."

"If I bring you a loaf of Wendy Blake's banana bread could we make it four weeks?"

"You got an inside track on that?"

Plucking the invitation from his jacket he grinned. "I'm getting a whole dinner. Jealous?"

Using the new information Brass gave his final answer. "Two weeks with the bread, _one_ without."

"You're such a hard ass, Jim." Grissom grumbled as he returned to his desk for the applications.

"And you're still so bad at negotiating." Brass rolled his eyes. "You aren't supposed to tell me about the banana bread in advance. When I show up in two weeks busting your balls because you still haven't named a replacement, that's when you mention the banana bread. _Then_ it buys you more time, not now when you still have time left."

"Ah." Haphazardly he stuffed the applications in his briefcase. "Good to know."

Walking down the hall together, Brass chuckled. "Want to grab some lunch?" He checked his watch. "I have thirty minutes to bestow a little more political knowledge on you, grasshopper."

"No. I've got to get home."

"What's that noise?" He glanced around pretending to track down the sound. "Oh! It's the rattle of a ball and chain."

Grinning, Grissom asked, "Jealous?"

"Nah…Sara can't make banana bread."

"I can _buy_ banana bread."

"What?" Brass leaned in while holding his hand to his ear. "I can't hear a thing over those clanking chains!"

* * *

Sara lay on her bed staring at the ant farm she had taken off the dresser and put on her nightstand. Fifteen minutes of prep work and one trip to the backyard and they had an instant family. Glancing over at the pile of books and pamphlets blanketing the foot of the bed she knew the real thing…_if _they decided to pursue it, was going to be a lot more challenging. 

Closing her eyes she tried to block the million conflicting thoughts coursing through her mind.

Minutes later, when she heard the front door open she called out. "I'm in the bedroom." She was glad she could finally unload some of the burden.

Keys still in hand, Grissom hurried into the room. "Sorry, I wanted to be here when you got back but Jim was harassing me about the new hire." Tossing his keys on the nightstand he sat on the edge of the bed. "You looked stressed." The last thing he wanted was for her to find out there was something wrong. "Is there a problem?"

"Physically?" She shook her head. "Doctor said everything looks fine. They did an ultrasound and told me I still have plenty of eggs in the hatchery. I have to wait on the tests and the blood work but I'm not worried."

"Well that's great news." He breathed easier until he realized she was still vexed. "It is great news, isn't it?"

"Yes. Sorry. I'm still freaked out from the whole experience." Sitting up she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. "When you were in the Urologist's office, did anyone in the waiting room talk to you and…"

"Are you kidding?" Taking off his jacket he threw it on a nearby chair. "Guys don't talk to each other at the urinal when things are going well. You think we're going to strike up a conversation when we're waiting to find out if something's wrong with the plumbing? That office is probably the quietest place in Vegas next to the morgue."

For the first time in hours she chuckled. "Well…it works differently in a room full of hormone-infused women."

"I bet." Taking her in his arms, he kissed her cheek. "So tell me about the appointment."

"Where to begin?" She sighed. "Remind me…what do you have to give up, if we decide to try and…?"

"No hot tub, recreational drugs, smoking or excessive cycling."

In a voice dripping with sarcasm, she empathized. "How horribly devastating considering your current lifestyle."

"Tell me about it." He laughed, as he dropped back on the bed, pulling her on top of him. "A chain-smoking, acid-dropping, Tour-de-France champion like me will really be suffering."

"But as soon as you successfully make your contribution…"

"I can hop on my bicycle, light up and hallucinate whenever I please."

"Exactly my point." She playfully punched him in the shoulder. "It's so unfair."

"And you know I won't be out of commission for long considering the quality of my …"

"Yes, yes I know!" Laughing she rolled her eyes. "How can I possibly forget when you keep reminding me that you're a stud?"

"You want to brag about your eggs so we're even?"

Cracking up, she rolled off of him and onto her back. "You don't get it. Ego is the last thing on my mind. I'm scared to death. I have to give up coffee!" Truly that was the least of her worries but it was representative of the sacrifices she'd have to make.

"Uh oh." He had only seen her coffee-deprived once and it wasn't pretty.

"And that's the tip of the iceberg. I have to take daily vitamins, change the way I eat, sleep, and exercise. And if I do get…"

He waited to see if she'd squeeze out the word.

"If I do get…you know…then there are things at work I won't be able to touch or smell or be near. My whole body will change and it might never be the same again. For nine months your life won't change at all but mine will be barely recognizable." Elbowing him I the ribs she groaned. "It sucks being a girl."

"Ow." Propping up on an elbow he said, "Just because I'm a biologist, you can't blame me for the design of the species."

"Well I know I'm not responsible." She chuckled as she turned to face him. "Because I would have done it _much _differently."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'll miss the hot tub."

"Oh yeah…that helps."

"Of course during that same hot tub deprivation period, for optimum fertilization odds, I would be forced to make love to you every forty-eight hours. How will I survive?" Nuzzling against her he teased, "Did your doctor say anything about practicing every forty-eight hours? I'm rather certain mine did."

"No, but she did tell me I needed to stop taking my birth control pills as soon as I'm done with my current pack."

He stopped in mid kiss. "So soon?"

"Yep. I've been on them so long it's the only way to know if I have a healthy cycle." She grinned. "Guess there will be a few more impacts on your life than you originally thought. As if it won't be challenging enough getting me de-caffeinated and de-regulated hormonally…in the future, you won't be _getting _me at all unless you make a trip to the drug store."

"You mean I have to buy…"

"Don't come knocking unless you've been shopping, Stud." She winked as she straddled him. "Because I know you're armed and dangerous."

"That's right."

As they kissed, they rolled to the lower part of the bed, bumping into Sara's pile of paperwork and books, scattering it.

"Ugh." She groaned. "This stuff keeps haunting me."

Grissom pulled a bunch of papers from beneath him. "Genetic Screening Request Form?"

"Yeah lucky me. Because I'll be thirty-five when…_if_…I get pregnant I got that bonus pamphlet.

"You said the word." He was stunned.

"See! Freaks you out when the other person says it, huh?" It was refreshing to see her tense look on his face. "Anyway they suggest getting tested for any genetic problems but it's not required."

Sobering he said, "You know my hearing problem is hereditary. Does that bother you?"

"Are you kidding? With the mental illness running on both sides of my family who am I to be selective?" Falling into his arms, she sighed. "Seriously…you should be the one who is worried."

"I'm not." He kissed the top of her head.

"So we've fulfilled the technical portion of the study assuming my tests come back fine."

"They will."

"So what's next?" She burrowed further into his embrace. "Even though we're both physically able, I'm not feeling mentally ready to decide anything."

He held her tighter. "I know I've been joking about all of this but I'm just as uncertain as you. And we don't have to make a decision for months."

Wistfully she asked, "How many babies have you held in your life?"

"Live ones?" It didn't take long to count. "None."

"Me either."

"How many kids do you actually know?"

"Only Lindsay but I've barely interacted with her."

"Same here." Sighing she lifted her head to capture his eyes with hers. "This whole thing is nothing more than a concept to us. We have no first hand experience. Beyond the biology of conception, we don't have a clue what to do." Panic seized her. "Who are we kidding? Why would we even want this complication in our lives? Have you ever thought that maybe we've fallen victim to some societal pressure or primal instinct and we need to wake up and realize we have a choice and we're not cut out to be parents of anything other than insects?"

"Do you want to call off the study?"

"Do you?"

For a while they stared at one another, each not sure of the answer they wanted to hear or give.

Grissom finally whispered, "No. At this point, I don't want to call it off. I'd like to keep investigating but maybe that's easier for me to say because I don't have to make the same physical sacrifices as you." Brushing his fingertips across her cheek, he said, "So, ultimately it's your call, Sara."

Fear and relief flowed through her until they combined to produce a nervous smile. "I think we need to get some first-hand exposure."

He was stunned by the level of relief he felt knowing they weren't calling it off. "I know exactly how we can get some first-hand exposure."

"How?"

"To thank us for our work on the Rodgers case, the Blakes invited us over for dinner next week with Nick and Carrie."

Perplexed, she asked, "How does that help?"

"The Blakes have four kids under the age of eleven."

"Four kids?" She gasped. "Don't you think we should start by observing one kid and work our way up?"

"Well…if we're comfortable around four then one won't be much of an issue."

"I suppose that's a good theory." Smiling she eased back into his arms. "And Wendy is a really nice person so how bad can her kids be?"

"I was at her house during the investigation, remember? Her kids weren't there but it was a very warm and loving environment. I'm sure they're wonderful."

"Do you think we should tell Wendy that her children's behavior will determine our future?"

Feigning disgust, he grimaced. "Who are you? You call yourself a scientist? Forget about having a baby with me, I don't think I can have you work for me anymore. If you _tell_ Wendy what we're doing, you'd be contaminating the experiment by fixing the conditions."

"Right…right." She could barely keep a straight face. "_The creatures_ must be observed in their natural state."

"And I'm sure it will be a very positive experience."

"And if it's not positive and her kids turn out to be poster-children for contraception, on the way home from dinner, we'll stop at Walgreens to refill my birth control prescription."

"And I'll still go shopping but instead of buying a jumbo box of Trojans I'll buy you a year's supply of gourmet coffee."

"Deal."

Rolling around in bed, their laughter replaced the tension in the room and the remaining books and papers fell to the floor.


	3. The Good, the Bad and the Sticky

**Feasibility Study**

**Chapter 3: The Good, the Bad and the Sticky  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

**June 5, 2005 (Day 44)  
****5:10 p.m**.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Sara applied mascara while breathing in the comforting scent of her Body Shop aromatherapy oils, a perfect mixture of papaya and exotic, and listening to the soothing chords of Debussy's Clair de lune drifting in from the bedroom.

After tossing her mascara tube on the counter, she adjusted her raspberry v-neck silk pintuck shell, a new purchase for the occasion and brushed a piece of lint off her black crop pants.

"Almost ready?" Grissom asked as he stepped into the tranquil room. They were expected at the Blake's in twenty minutes. "You look beautiful." He planted a kiss on her shoulder.

"Thank you." Smiling she eased against his body. "And you cleaned up very nicely." Prior to showering, he was in a white t-shirt covered in dirt from freshening up some tanks in the bug room. Now he was wearing black pants with one of his classic button-down short sleeve shirts, tonight's color choice…indigo.

From behind he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Are you feeling calmer?"

"The music helped."

In her ear he whispered, "We can always page each other if it goes badly."

"Nick would bust us." Taking a deep breath she announced, "We better go or we'll be late."

Releasing her, he walked out of the room. "I'll turn off the music and meet you in the entryway."

Sara bent over and blew out the tea light candle heating her aromatherapy jar just as the sonata stopped. For a moment the house was so silent she thought she could hear her heart beating in her chest and she savored the serenity. Then she heard Grissom's keys rattle. "Okay, I'm coming." When she got to the bedroom door, she flicked the lights off, leaving the ants to

* * *

Wendy yelled across the kitchen, "Ryan Patrick Blake, you give your brother back his dinosaur book right now or you'll lose TV privileges for a week!" 

"Fine!" Ryan slid the book across the table to his twin brother Sean.

Sean immediately buried his head in the book and tuned out his brother's whining, his baby sister's rhythmic bang of a spoon on her highchair and the churn of the Kitchen Aid mixer in the background.

Although the boys were twins with golden hair and azure eyes, just like Wendy and her sister Samantha had opposing personalities, so did Ryan and Sean.

"Why did dad have to leave on his business trip a day early?" Ryan moaned. "It's Sunday. We always play football on Sunday!"

"Because his boss asked him to help out, sweetie." Wendy opened the oven to check the lasagna. "I'm sure Nick will toss your football with you if you asked. I think he played ball when he was in school."

"Mommy, mommy, mommy!" Four year-old McKenna Blake wailed as she tore into the room. "I can't find my blankie! It's gone!" Her thick mane of honey-colored curls flopped around as she jumped up and down at her mother's feet.

"Carrie!" Wendy, finally hitting saturation point, called into the living room. "Can you come in here, please?"

"What's up?" Carrie asked as she checked her lipstick in the stainless steel of the fridge. Just as she suspected, that last round of kisses had eliminated most of it.

"I've got a few things left to do here plus I'm trying to feed the baby so I can put her down. Can you please help McKenna find her blanket?"

"Sure." Taking her niece's hand, Carrie led her out of the kitchen. "Let's go ask Mr. Nick to help us. He works for the police department and knows all about following clues and finding things. He just finished his shift for the day but I bet he's not too tired to help."

"O…o…okay," McKenna replied while wiping away her tears.

"Nick, we have a serious problem." Carrie walked her niece over to the couch. "We need someone with experience to help us find a missing blankie."

Putting his bottle of beer on the coffee table, Nick sweetly asked, "Miss, can you remember the last place you saw your blankie?"

"The playroom."

Tapping the tip of her nose with his finger he smiled. "Then I think that's the first place we should check."

The ring of the front doorbell halted the investigation.

"That must be Grissom and Sara." Nick smirked as he stood up. "This is going to be fun. This place is a zoo and they live in a library."

"I know why you fit in so well here at the zoo." Carrie teased. "You're an animal."

Nick pulled her close and growled in her ear. "Now is it really appropriate to talk about our love life in front of the kid?"

McKenna had waited long enough. "Blankie! Blankie! Blankie!"

"Are you getting the door, Carrie?" Wendy shouted from the kitchen.

"Okay, okay!" Carrie slipped out of Nick's arms, scooped up McKenna and headed for the door with Nick right behind her.

When Carrie opened the door, McKenna took one look at the strangers on her front porch and released a blood curdling scream.

Grissom and Sara looked at each other wondering if it was too late to try the pager trick.

"McKenna!" Carrie chuckled as she covered the child's mouth momentarily. "These are the nice people from the police department who work with Mr. Nick. We called them here to help find your blankie. Sorry about that, guys. Welcome to the zoo. Come on in." She stepped back allowing the shell shocked couple to enter. "Love that top, Sara. Great color on you."

"Hi. Thanks." Sara smiled as she walked through the door. "Wow it smells really good in here." Glancing around, Sara realized this home had all the familial warmth she dreamed about while in foster care and she wandered around taking in the details.

"Nice to see you again, Carrie." Grissom politely remarked while stepping into the living room.

Nick savored the tense expressions on the guests' faces. "Glad you guys could make it."

Always the observant one, Grissom remarked, "What shade of lipstick are you wearing, Nick?"

Carrie blushed. "That would be Burnt Sugar Shimmer." Reaching over she wiped the evidence of their exchange off Nick's face.

"Blankie! Blankie! Blankie!" McKenna bounced in Carrie's arms. "You said you would help!"

"If you'll excuse me for a minute." Carrie took McKenna to the playroom. "Let's go get that blankie."

Wendy came bounding out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a dishrag. "Gil and Sara thank you so much for coming."

"Thanks for having us," Grissom warmly replied before getting pulled away by Nick for a work consultation.

While Grissom and Nick were talking, Sara handed over a vase of cheerful cut flowers to Wendy. "These are for you, Wendy." There she was, face to face with the perfect mother figure. Every photo displayed in the living room pointed to one conclusion…Wendy was the modern day June Cleaver, the Tiffany pearls and chiffon dress replaced with a Cookie Lee choker and designer jeans.

"They're beautiful thank you." When she looked up she noticed Sara was staring at her. "Is something…"

"You have uh…I think it's food…stuck in your hair." If she had to guess she'd say it was peaches.

"Oh!" Wendy laughed as she picked out the scraps. "The baby just flung some diced peaches my way. You know…just one of many job hazards."

"Right." Sara nodded as if she knew first-hand what Wendy was referring to.

"You'll have to forgive me for things being a little behind around here. My husband got unexpectedly called away on business a day early."

Seeing an out, Sara pounced, "We wouldn't have been offended if you cancelled or if you still…"

"Are you kidding?" Wendy chuckled. "Then I'd be home alone with all four kids. Now I have four helpers. You can each take one kid and I can have the night off."

Apparently the experiment was going to be a little more 'hands-on' than Sara predicted. "I uh…I don't really have a lot of experience…"

"I was kidding, Sara." Taking her by the elbow she guided her to the couch. "You're my guest. Just have a seat and relax. Try the avocado dip."

Carrie re-entered the room brushing crumbs off her gold and pink lace shell top. "I solved the blankie mystery. Maybe I could be a CSI? Did you fill Nick's spot yet?" She turned to her sister. "McKenna has opted to stay in the playroom watching Barney and eating goldfish crackers."

Seated on the couch, Sara bent over and swooped a chip through the bowl of green mush. "This is perfect. Avocados are very high in Folic Acid and I need to up my intake of Folic Acid."

"I didn't know you were pregnant, Sara!" Wendy cheerily exclaimed.

A hush fell over the room except for the sound of Nick choking on his swig of beer.

"Congratulations!" Carrie beamed with delight.

Nick elbowed Grissom and whispered. "Way to go."

Finally dislodging the chip stuck in her throat, Sara corrected them. "I don't know why you think I…I'm not pregnant."

"Sorry." Wendy shook her head. "My fault. I assumed when you were concerned about Folic Acid that it meant you were pregnant because women are usually only concerned about their intake when they are pregnant or are trying to conceive. Now I feel really bad…you're probably trying and haven't…"

"No…I…"

Grissom came to her rescue. "Sara is like a walking encyclopedia. She spits out random facts all the time. She read about Folic Acid in article earlier today."

"Yes." Sara nodded. "I'm not pregnant or trying, I'm just a big nerd."

"That's not a nice word!" Ryan yelled from the kitchen doorway. "My brother gets called that all the time and we're not supposed to say it!"

Sara covered her mouth like a little girl in trouble. "Sorry."

He continued to scold the rude stranger. "And you can't say dork, loser or geek either!"

"Okay." Sara felt a fresh blush blossom on her face.

"Ryan that's enough!" Wendy motioned for her son to join her. "Ms. Sidle wasn't talking about your brother. She was referring to herself."

Ryan stood next to his mother and suspiciously eyed Sara. "And lady as long as you're under this roof you can't say ass, crap or shit either!"

Nick could no longer contain his laughter. "Yeah…remember that Sara."

Wendy covered her son's mouth with her palm. "Ryan brought home some new words from school last month and we obviously did a great job making him understand the rules." Removing her hand, she said, maybe this would be a good time to ask Nick to toss a football with you."

"I'd love to." Nick slapped Grissom on the back. "Come outside with us and I'll teach you how to throw a perfect spiral."

Grissom calmly countered, "What makes you think I don't already know how?"

"I'm not falling for your bluff." Nick smirked. "Twenty bucks says you don't." He led the way to the kitchen.

Wendy made one last request. "Nick, make sure you get Sean to go outside with you. He doesn't have to play but I want him reading his book in the fresh air."

"Yes, ma'am."

Carrie feigned a Texas drawl. "While you men folk are outside being all manly-like I guess us women folk will stay inside and talk about baking pies and making babies."

At the kitchen door, Nick finally responded to Carrie's sarcasm. "Sweetie, you don't have to come outside because I already know you can throw a spiral…you've had me spinning since the day I met you."

"So smooth Stokes." Carrie swooned. "I'll thank you for that later but for now, get out of here so I can gossip with Sara and _finally_ get some juicy details about you."

Grissom pushed Nick through the doorway. "You heard _the boss_."

When the guys were gone, Wendy said, "I have to check on the lasagna…and the bread…and the baby."

"We'll help you." Carrie headed for the kitchen. "Come on, Sara. I still want some dirt on Nick." On the way, she grabbed the chips and dip. "I've got your folic acid."

When Sara stood up, she noticed her black linen pants were covered in cracker crumbs. Brushing them off, she thought…another hazard of the job I suppose.

As the ladies walked into the kitchen, the men stepped onto the field…

"Okay Gridiron Grissom, let's see this perfect spiral." Nick stood at the end of the yard antagonizing his playmate. "You need me to move closer just say the words."

While getting a feel for the ball, Grissom answered Nick. "I have words for you, but I think young Ryan would find them unacceptable."

"You can say them!" Ryan snickered. "Cause we're not under my mom's roof anymore."

Sitting on the ground against a tree, Sean lifted his head out of his book. "Mom uses the roof _figuratively_. You're not supposed to say them ever."

Glaring at his brother, Ryan snapped, "She can't _figure_ anything out if she's in the kitchen and we're out here!"

Nick, anxious to collect the easiest twenty dollars he ever made, yelled, "We're losing daylight here!"

A second later Grissom launched the perfect spiral and Nick caught it on the fly. "Damn!"

"I'll take my twenty bucks now." Grissom postured with his hand out.

Walking across the yard Nick shook his head and tossed the ball to Ryan. "Gris, I would have never guessed you played ball." He reached for his wallet and produced a twenty.

"Are you kidding?" He collected the money and stuffed it in his pocket. "The closest I ever came to playing football was running away from a linebacker who was trying to stuff me in a locker."

"Then how…"

"Researching the Conservation of Angular Momentum when I was in High School. I was walking by the football field one day and I noticed the same principles applied to throwing a perfect spiral. So I went home and tested my theory and the by-product was what just earned me your twenty bucks."

While Ryan took the football and punted it around the yard, Sean listened intently to the conversation.

Grissom explained, "When you snap your wrist to set the ball in motion…" He paused to demonstrate for Nick. "Like this…"

Sean decided the guy was taking far too long and blurted out the rest of the explanation. "You transfer energy to the ball and as the ball is spinning away, the compensatory energy shows up as the turning motion in your body."

"What he said." Grissom was suddenly intrigued by the boy. "You already know about Conservation of Angular Momentum?"

"Yeah." Sean rolled his eyes. "You didn't figure it out until High School?"

Nick confessed, "I only learned it now."

"I could care less!" Ryan announced. "Is someone _ever _going to play ball with me?"

Nick nodded at Grissom. "I think we both know who is hanging with who."

"Whom." Sean groaned. "Who is hanging with _whom_."

Ignoring the precocious child, Nick turned to Ryan. "Okay let's see what you've got, kiddo. I'm going long."

Grissom, pleased with the division of responsibility, leaned against the tree. "What else do you know about Conservation of Angular Momentum?"

With the ease of a typical boy explaining the plot of a Spongebob Squarepants episode, he replied, "Some background first. It is a product of inertia and velocity. Inertia means the tendency of something not to change and velocity means how fast it moves, while momentum means the tendency of an object in motion not to slow down. Am I going to fast for you?"

"How old are you?" Grissom was amazed by the boy's knowledge.

"10. How old are you?"

"48."

Moving on to other numbers, Sean confidently announced, "My IQ is 147, what's yours?"

"146."

"Are you a member of Mensa?"

"Nah." Grissom took a seat next to his intellectual superior. "I'm not much of a joiner."

"Me either." Sean closed his book. "I tried to do cub scouts with my brother but it didn't work out."

"Never did for me either."

With trepidation, Sean asked, "Think I'll get stuffed in a locker when I get to High School?"

He didn't sugar coat it. "If you keep correcting the grammar of guys who are bigger than you? Yes."

"But it's so annoying."

"Take it from me; you need to work on keeping your mouth shut when you're in the presence of guys who can pummel you. You don't incite them then they'll forget you're there." Remembering the kid was only ten he amplified his point. "You ever go to the zoo?"

"Yes."

"Well the next time you go try this experiment. Nonchalantly walk past the gorilla's cage and see what he does. Then go back a second time and stop in front of his cage waving your arms and pointing out his intellectual inadequacies and see what he does." Watching Ryan and Nick he said, "If you can't get to the zoo you can substitute your brother or Nick for the gorilla."

Sean cracked his first smile of the evening. "You're much more fun to have around than Nick. Do you think you could date my Aunt Carrie instead of him?"

Chuckling, Grissom replied, "Thanks for the compliment but I think Nick would pummel me if I tried to take his girl and that beating wouldn't be half as bad as what my own girl would do to me."

"Too bad." Sean held up his book. "Do you like dinosaurs?"

He took the book and leafed through it. "As a kid I was intrigued by them but I got frustrated because there were no live ones to observe. Consequently, I switched to bugs."

"I haven't studied bugs yet."

The boys words were music to Grissom's ears. "Good. Now I have a way to impress you with _my _knowledge."

While the boys were busy outside, the girls were busy in the kitchen…

McKenna tossed an apron at Sara. "You can be the mommy and Aunt Carrie will be my twin sister."

"Um…Okay." Clutching the apron she smiled. "But I'm keeping my shoes on."

Wendy laughed. "Sara you can tell her no if you don't want to play house."

"It's fine." Sara tied the apron around her waist. After all, the hidden agenda of this visit was first hand experience with kids. "Okay so what do I do now?"

McKenna stared at her play-mother. "What do you mean? You're the mommy…you're suppose-tah know what to do. Didn't you play house when you weren't old?"

"Uh…sure." Searching her memory Sara finally found a relevant one. "Would you like to have a tea party?"

"Yay!" McKenna dashed out of the kitchen yelling, "I'll get my tea set!"

Carrie flashed a supportive smile. "Good call." She knew this couldn't be easy for Sara. Last week, when she approached her about becoming active in the backpack charity project, after citing her personal reasons for wanting to be involved, Sara briefly opened up about her own past.

"Tea party is the only thing I remember my mom playing with me." Sara sighed. "Of course at the time I didn't realize I was pouring vodka into my mom's tea cup." After the admission, she realized just how well therapy was working and that Dr. Myers is worth every penny Grissom is paying her.

Wanting to cheer her up, Carrie motioned for Sara to join her at the window. "Hey, check this out. Looks like the men are having fun being boys again."

When she got to the window she saw Grissom and Sean digging in the dirt with tiny buckets and plastic shovels. "Look at that." She knew they had to be on a bug hunt. "Are they…bonding?"

"Yeah." Blissfully sighing Carrie watched Nick and Ryan tossing the football. "He'll be a great dad one day."

"You think?" Sara asked with surprise in her voice.

"Definitely!" She couldn't take her eyes off Nick's smile. "Just look at how happy he is out there showing him what to do."

"He does look relaxed." Of course any time Grissom talked about bugs he was in his element but this was different, she had never seen him talking bugs with a child. Watching him digging holes and ferreting out insects with Sean, for the first time she could picture Grissom as a…dad. As if on cue, her primitive instincts kicked in and she swore she heard her clock tock a little louder.

"Got it!" McKenna skipped into the kitchen. Dripping with enthusiasm, she plopped down the case of tiny plastic dishes and cups. "I'll set the table."

Pulling herself away from the window, Sara returned to McKenna's side. "I'll fill the tea kettle."

While pulling out her lasagna, Wendy instructed, "There's some lemonade in the fridge, Sara." Finally remembering her manners, she said, "I never even offered you a drink. I know you're working later so wine is out. How about a Coke?"

"I'm trying to cut down on my caffeine intake so I'll just have some water." Sara replied as she opened the fridge to retrieve the lemonade.

Carrie and Wendy exchanged curious glances while Sara filled the tea kettle.

"Okay who is ready for some tea?" Smiling, Sara returned to the table.

"Me!" McKenna held out her cup. "And don't forget the cookies!"

"Right!" Sara got up to find some. "Where would the cookies be?"

"On the counter in the Cookie Monster jar." McKenna gleefully announced. "You're a good mommy, Sara."

"I am?" She was stunned by the compliment. If this little girl thought so highly of her after only a half hour maybe being a mother wouldn't be so hard after all. "What makes you say that?"

"You're letting me have cookies before dinner."

Her hand in the cookie jar, Sara realized her faux pas. "Oops."

"One cookie is fine." Wendy assured her.

Suddenly the baby started to wail.

"Hey Carrie, can you change the baby's diaper and put her down while I finish the salad."

"Is she…"

"No, I wouldn't have asked if she was poopy." Wendy found it hard to believe that Carrie could hear and see the most grisly details of child abuse without emotion but was incapacitated by bad smells. "Really…you need to get over the smell thing. Especially since you want a big family of your own one day."

"Everyone has their fatal flaw! Even Superman couldn't handle Kryptonite!" Seeing an opportunity, Carrie snickered. "Sara's the mommy. She should change the diaper. Right, McKenna?"

"That's right."

Sara admitted the shocking truth. "I've never changed a diaper in my life." The pitch of the baby's shriek vibrated in her eardrum. "Really."

"Ever?" Carrie found that hard to believe.

"No." She felt compelled to explain. "I didn't have any siblings. There were never any babies in any of my foster homes. I never babysat for anyone…not even a cat."

Wendy plucked the raging baby out of the highchair and handed her to Carrie. "You can't ask a guest to change a diaper."

Bobbing little eleven month-old Ashley in her arms, Carrie attempted to yell over her niece's screaming. "Okay but considering Sara's dire need for more Folic Acid and less caffeine, I think she should observe and learn how."

Sara realized Carrie and Wendy were on to her but admitted nothing. "I'm just a nerdy health nut." And even though she was sure the maniacal baby was about to spin her head around and curse them in tongues, in the true spirit of the study, Sara decided to take Carrie up on her offer. "But I'll be glad to help."

McKenna darted out of the room. "I'll get the new diaper ready!"

After the girls left the kitchen, the boys entered through the back door…

Ryan ran right to the stove. "I'm starving! When's dinner!"

"Five minutes so go wash up." Turning around she saw Grissom and Sean covered in dirt. "That goes for the two of you also."

"Mom…" Sean walked over smiling. "When Ryan's hamster eventually dies can you save the corpse for me?"

"What?"

Nick stared at Grissom. "This has to be your doing."

Sean eagerly bestowed his new knowledge on his mother. "Mr. Grissom told me nothing attracts bugs better than a rotting corpse. So can you mom, please?"

Grissom shrugged. "What? It's true."

And while Wendy contemplated the disgusting idea, Carrie dealt with a disgusting surprise…

"Damn it!" Dropping the baby's sticky outfit on the floor, she jumped back covering her mouth and fighting her overly sensitive gag reflex. "She pooped on the way to the nursery!"

McKenna, standing on her stool next to the changing table, was quick to remind her aunt. "Mommy always says the baby can't be left alone on the changing table 'cause she could roll off, break open her head and _**die**!_"

Sara rushed to the baby's side. "We wouldn't want that to happen!" The study would definitely be a failure if grievous injury occurred to one of _the creatures_ she was observing. "You really can't handle this smell?" Sara chuckled. "I think you can forget about your CSI career, Carrie."

In the corner of the room with a teddy bear covering her nose and mouth, she replied through the safety of the stuffed animal's fur. "My whole family makes fun of me over this but I can't help it." Heading for the door, she muttered, "I'm getting Wendy."

McKenna glanced up at Sara. "I can tell you how."

"Um…" The baby was much calmer…almost cute actually. "Well…"

Like a nurse assisting a surgeon she handed over the right tools. "First you use the wipes."

With trembling hands, Sara accepted the challenge. "I'm uh…used to clean up bodies just uh…not moving ones."

The baby emitted a series of confusing sounds.

"Why is she…"

"'Cause the wipes are cold."

"Oh right." Sara set the dirty diaper and the used wipes on the lower shelf of the table. "That wasn't so bad."

McKenna prepped for the next step. "Some cornstarch powder."

"Okay." Sara gave the carton a hearty squeeze.

"Too much!" McKenna giggled as she waved away the cloud of powder.

"Is she going to choke?" Sara panicked as she brushed away the excess from the baby's body.

Little Ashley giggled from the funny lady's touch.

"You made her laugh." McKenna held up the fresh diaper.

"I did?" Sara breathed a sigh of relief. "Which way does this…."

"Tabs in back."

"Thanks." With a little more confidence, Sara fastened the new diaper on the baby.

"Now pick her up and say something sweet."

"Um." With shaky hands she lifted the babbling baby into her arms. "You smell better now."

McKenna jumped down from her stool. "I'll pick out her jammies."

A smile eased over Sara's lips as she gazed at the baby in her arms. "Now all I smell are the peaches stuck in your hair and the cracker crumbs stuck to you little face."

The idyllic moment came to an abrupt end when Ashley grabbed a clump of Sara's hair. "Ow! Ow!"

"She's a hair puller." McKenna groaned. Having a full head of curls she knew it all too well. "Just yell no."

"No!"

Little Ashley burst into a fit of tears and Sara panicked. "You told me to yell."

Happy to be playing the grown up, McKenna continued her advisory role. "Bounce her and sing Twinkle Twinkle."

Desperate to get the baby happy again, Sara did as she was told. "Twinkle twinkle little star how I wonder what you are. Twinkle twinkle little star how I wonder what you are. Twinkle twinkle little star how I wonder what you are."

"Don't you know the rest of the song?" McKenna asked somewhat shocked.

Sara slightly cowered. "There's more to it?" Then she realized it didn't matter because the baby had quieted. "It worked…you're all better now."

Ashley giggled and put her fingers in Sara's mouth.

In the doorway, Grissom stood quietly watching the tender moment. It wasn't her sticky mussed up hair or the fact she was covered in baby powder but the blissful look on her face that made him for the first time, picture Sara as a…mom. Not wanting to disturb the peaceful bonding moment he continued down the hall.

Finally feeling comfortable, Sara spoke softly to the baby, "You really are kind of sweet, huh?"

In response, Ashley lifted her index finger and forcefully poked Sara in the eye.

"Ow!" She was certain the stealthy creature gave her a retinal tear. "Oh my god!"

McKenna sighed. "Shoulda warned ya…she's an eye poker too."

Wendy rushed into the room. "Sorry Carrie stranded you here." She noticed Sara covering her eye. "Did she poke you?"

"It's okay." Sara gladly let the baby be taken from her arms. "I just need to flush it out and I'll be fine."

As she walked out of the room and down the hall, her eye tearing uncontrollably, she bumped into Grissom.

"Oh honey." He took her in his arms. "Holding the baby really got to you."

"What?" While fighting the searing pain in her eye she couldn't focus on his words.

"I saw you holding her and singing." Gently he wiped her tears away. "I can't believe you're so overcome with emotion."

"No." She snipped. "My eye is tearing because that little demon in disguise tried to rip it out with her talons."

"Oh." Reaching up he delicately inspected her injury.

Her tone lightened as she playfully asked, "Were you spying on me?"

"I was observing." Grinning, he released her eyelid. "Obviously I walked away before you were assaulted. Do you want to press charges? If so I should swab your face for demon epithelials."

"From what I've heard she's a repeat-offender so maybe a night in County lock-up would teach her a lesson."

As they laughed, Wendy came down the hall holding McKenna's hand. "I take it your eye is okay, Sara?"

Pulling herself together she replied, "I'll be fine." Although the truth was it hurt like hell.

"Let's head to the dining room and eat, shall we?" Wendy led the way.

But Nick and Carrie were already there…

Placing a basket overflowing with fresh baked rolls on the table, Carrie caught Nick watching her. "Is this fulfilling some kind of domestic fantasy of yours? Because it's not my fantasy. Although I want kids, I have no plans to sit home and bake bread and play house all day. I'll always be a career woman."

Chuckling he informed her, "Actually I was checking out your ass, which by the way looks mighty fine in those jeans. Is that less offensive to your feminist sensibilities?"

Laughing she replied, "Much less."

"Are you testing the waters here, baby?" Nick grabbed her hand and winked. "Doing a little fishing? Am I supposed to take the bait and tell you that one day I'd like kids too and I wouldn't expect my wife to stay home, that I'd support her decision to maintain her career. Maybe even qualify my point by saying my mom had seven kids and rumor has it she gave birth while reading legal briefs?"

Wrapping her arms around Nick's waist, Carrie replied, "Like your opinion of my ass in these jeans…that

information is nice to hear."

Falling into a passionate kiss, the lovebirds didn't hear the boys enter the room.

"AH! My eyes! My eyes!" Ryan exclaimed upon seeing the lip lock. "AHHHHHH!"

"What's wrong, Ryan?" Wendy asked as she tore around the corner.

"Nick was trying to suck Aunt Carrie's face off!"

Patting her son on the head, she told him, "They were getting a little romantic, that's all."

"I'm glad you and dad never do that." He plopped down at the table and grabbed a roll. "Let's eat!"

Nick released Carrie and pulled out a chair for her before taking one himself.

Sean pulled out a chair too. "Sit next to me, Mr. Grissom."

"You have a fan," Sara whispered.

Wendy flashed a warning glance as she dished out the vegetable lasagna. "No talk of bug infested corpses at the dinner table."

Sara pinched Grissom's arm as they sat down. "I thought we discussed this before we left home. _Normal_ small talk, remember?"

Grissom shrugged. "I got excited and forgot."

"Sorry." Sara glanced toward Wendy as she took a seat. "You can take the geeks out of the lab but…"

"Bad word!" Ryan yelled while bits of roll flew out of his mouth, through the air and onto Sara's forearm.

"You got me…literally." Picking up her napkin she wiped away the DNA laced bread crumbs.

McKenna, deciding she wasn't getting enough attention took a handful of peas and with a quick flick of her wrist, flung them at Ryan.

"Did you see that, Mr. Grissom?" Sean grinned. "That was Conservation of Angular Momentum in action."

Sara's ears perked up. "That's part of my thesis."

Sean leaned in to ask his new friend, "Is she smart too?"

He whispered back. "I don't know, maybe you should ask her for her IQ score." It's something he always wondered but wouldn't ask.

Leaning forward, Sean asked, "Ms. Sidle what's your IQ?"

Surprised by the question she stammered. "It's uh…not something I really…I was always encouraged not to share that information."

Nick rolled his eyes. "Oh come on just cough it up. It's not like he's asking you for your age which we all know is thirty-four or your weight which is one-fifteen."

Resisting the urge to fling a handful of peas at her pseudo-sibling, Sara answered the question. "148 which is about one hundred points higher than Nick's."

Grissom's mouth fell open.

"What?" Sara asked, as she cut into her lasagna.

Sean answered her question. "I think he's surprised that you beat him by two points."

Nick cracked up while buttering a roll. "I bet someone is going to ask for a retest."

Carrie suddenly dropped her fork. "What's that smell?"

"What smell?" Wendy rolled her eyes. "Nick, are you sure you want to date her? She has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder of the nose."

"I smell…"

"POOP!" Ryan screamed as the family cocker spaniel jumped on his lap with Ashley's poopy diaper, which Sara had left out ripe for the picking, hanging from his mouth.

Unfortunately, Ryan, like Carrie had a squeamish streak and even more unfortunately he had gulped down two rolls and a full helping of lasagna right before getting squeamish.

"Oh god!" Carrie shrieked as her nephew vomited next to her. "I've got to…" She ran from the table with her hands pressed to her mouth and Nick chasing after her.

Mocking Carrie, McKenna ran from the room shrieking.

Wendy jumped up. "I am SO sorry!" She grabbed Ryan. "Let's get you in the tub, sweetie."

Grissom and Sara sat shell shocked while Sean continued eating.

Finally the boy realized they were staring at him.

"Who cares about the smell? I never get to eat dinner in peace and quiet." With that he opened his dinosaur book and continued to savor his meal.

Grissom, once again thoroughly impressed, turned to Sara and asked, "Do you think Brass would let me hire Sean as Nick's replacement?"

Before Sara could answer she was distracted by the sound of a dog energetically lapping up vomit. Shielding her eyes, one of which was still throbbing, she said, "We uh…we definitely need to stop at Walgreen's on the way home."

Meanwhile in the bathroom…

Nick held Carrie's hair as she got sick for the third time. "That should do it."

"Oh god." Bringing her hands to her face she struggled to make the room stop spinning. "That was horrifying."

Nick stood up, grabbed a hand towel and ran some cold water over it. "Here you go." He sat beside her.

"Thanks." She dabbed the cool rag on her blood drained face. "You held my hair while I puked. That was so sweet."

He tucked her hair behind her ear. "And they say chivalry is dead."

Smiling brightly, she said, "I think I can safely say I've fallen completely, totally in love with you."

"It's about damn time you caught up." Thrilled by the revelation, he leaned in and then stopped. "They say love knows no bounds but even though I love you, sweetie, I'm not sealing this moment with a kiss until you brush your teeth."

* * *

**7:35 p.m. **

In the Walgreen's parking lot, Sara sat in the passenger's seat reviewing the stains on her new silk shirt while waiting for Grissom to return with her prescription.

To pass the time, she decided to look in the shopping bag Wendy had given them. Inside she found four loaves of banana bread with instructions for freezing and thawing, a Tupperware container full of cookies with a note that said, '_To share with your team'_ and a rather tattered notebook.

Intrigued by the last item, she pulled it out and set the shopping bag on the floor.

When she opened the notebook a note tumbled onto her lap.

_Sara, I know you are a walking encyclopedia but I wasn't sure if you already had this information so from one vegetarian to another, I'm sharing my notes. Tonight was crazy but not typical. Don't get discouraged. Walking into a house full of kids is not the same as starting out with one of your own. Also, please know that lots of women don't enjoy other people's children but love their own! I should know because I'm one of those women. Call me anytime. Hugs, Wendy _

Smiling, Sara flipped through the pages of Wendy's handwritten pregnancy cookbook filled with vegetarian recipes high in folic acid and protein.

When the car door opened, she tucked the notebook back in the shopping bag. "That didn't take long."

"Doc called it in and they filled it right away." Pulling the prescription out of the plastic shopping bag he said, "Tilt your head and I'll put them in."

She did as instructed while he opened the eye dropper.

"Doc wants you to see him first thing when you go to work. If the pain gets worse he'll call in something for that too." Carefully he squeezed in two drops. "Go ahead and blink." He re-capped the bottle. "You have to continue twice a day for five days."

"What else do you have in that bag, stud?"

Handing her the bag he sadly said, "Too bad you're feeling under the weather because here we are parked with a box full of prophylactics."

"You have some kind of high school memory you're looking to recapture?"

Starting the car he laughed. "I had a car in high school but the only action the back seat ever saw was the time when my beetles got loose on the way to the state science fair."

"Really? With a back seat full of beetles it surprises me to hear you didn't get much action in high school." Chuckling, she patted him on the knee. "Don't feel bad. I spent my prom night studying for my AP Physics exam."

Still a little irritated by the news he was two points below her, he grumbled, "With an IQ of 148 I'm shocked you even had to study."

Reclining her seat she closed her eyes while a smirk settled across her lips. "When we get home, I'm going to find my old IQ test report and hang it on the fridge next to your Urology results."

* * *

Carrie sat in the car waiting for Nick to return from the store. 

Even though she brushed her teeth twice, gargled with Scope and chewed two pieces of gum, she decided to retrieve her case of Altoids from her purse and chomp a few mints for good measure.

Before she could finish the mints in her mouth, she saw Nick returning with a dozen red roses and when he opened the car door, she grinned uncontrollably.

Extending the flowers he sweetly said, "I wanted you to have something pleasant fill your nose for the rest of the night."

"They're beautiful." She took the biggest sniff she could muster. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Wrinkling her nose she asked, "So even though you know my fatal flaw you still want to keep me around?"

"Trust me." He chuckled. "I can handle a double share of any bad smells that come our way."

"And what can I handle for the both of us?" She coyly asked while knowing the obvious answer.

Lacing his fingers through her hair he pulled her closer. "I'm sure one day down the road we'll think of something but for right now how about sharing that kiss we had to call off earlier." He paused to gaze into her eyes. "I love you, Carrie."

"I love you, Nick." Her eyes sparkled.

And finally, in the tranquility of a rose scented car interior, they sealed their affirmation with an overdue and incredibly minty kiss.

* * *

**8:37 p.m.**

Rid of her sticky clothes and dressed for work, Sara walked out of the bedroom and down the hall to the library.

At the door she paused to watch Grissom pull books from the Entomology section of the shelf. "What are you doing?" She curiously asked.

He jumped at her words. "You startled me. After an evening of noise I was lulled into a false sense of security by our quiet house."

"I know what you mean. I never realized how quietly we live until tonight." She stepped into the room and went to the biographical section to scan for the book she needed.

"To answer your question..." He dropped one more book onto the stack he was making. "I promised Sean I would loan him some reading material. I'm going to leave it in Nick's office tonight."

"You know, I did some observing of my own tonight." After plucking a biography of Albert Einstein off the shelf she turned to Grissom. "You and Sean really hit it off…especially when you were digging up Wendy's garden. It was fun to watch you in such a new situation."

"I want to get him excited about Entomology because I think it would be nice to have another generation of Entomologists." Knowing she didn't gel as successfully with Ashley or McKenna, he downplayed his success. "Besides it's easy to get along with someone when they're a mini version of yourself."

Clutching her book she crossed the room to join him. "If A equals B and B equals C then A equals C."

"The Transitive Postulate." He leaned against the shelves. "Things equal to the same or equal things are equal to each other."

"Not too shabby considering your IQ." Smiling she finished her analysis. You are an Entomologist. It would be nice to have another generation of Entomologists. It would be nice to have another generation of you." Stopping in front of him, she said, "You've entertained the idea but tonight it was tangible and you liked how it felt when you tried it on for size."

Rubbing his hand across his mouth he searched for the right words. "Sometimes it's still hard for me to believe or maybe even accept that you know me so well."

Reaching out she caressed his cheek. "But I do."

Now her earlier decision made sense. "Am I the reason you changed your mind about refilling your birth control prescription on the way to the pharmacy?"

Wrapping her arms around his waist she whispered, "Yes."

"Sara, this isn't only about one of us."

"Exactly. That's why the study goes on." She covered his lips in a kiss. "Now onto other matters." Extending her book, she grinned. "You remember my filing system, right?"

Taking the Einstein biography in his hands it hit him. "Einstein…genius…your IQ test results."

Ready to face the music, he opened the cover and pulled out the score sheet. "Wait a minute!" He exclaimed in a shocked tone. "This says 146."

"I knew your score so when I answered Sean's question I tacked a couple of points onto mine just to watch your reaction. Thanks for not disappointing me." Her smile grew. "Sometimes I'm ahead of you. Sometimes you're ahead of me.

"And sometimes…" Matching the intensity of her smile, he waved the test results. "…we're even."

* * *


	4. Dr Sidle and Ms Hyde

**Feasibility Study**

**Chapter 4: Dr. Sidle and Ms. Hyde  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

**June 22, 2005 (Day 61)  
****11:27 a.m. **

Catherine sat in Ladies fitting room flipping through the latest issue of In Style magazine. "Sara, what's taking you so long in there?" Impatiently she checked her watch. "You do know how to put on a dress, right?"

"Would you shut up already!" If she heard one more joke she was certain she'd strangle her. "This dress makes me feel so…"

"Feminine?"

"Awkward!"

"Isn't that the same thing for you?" Catherine tossed the magazine onto the empty chair next to her. "There's no one else out here so throw open that curtain and shake your ass for me."

Finally getting into the spirit of the sisterly moment, she quipped. "Only if you promise to stuff a dollar bill in my cleavage."

"Never shake it for less than a ten spot, honey." Catherine stood up. "And what cleavage? Hmm…maybe a dollar is more realistic."

Reluctantly Sara slid the curtain and left the safety of her cubicle. "I feel like a fish out of water."

"Oh…my…god." Catherine covered her mouth. "You're a girl!"

"Does it have to be so…red?" She asked while fidgeting in the three inch heels. "These shoes are ridiculous. I'll fall and kill myself on the way to the opera if I wear them."

"The dress isn't red." Catherine smirked. "It's scarlet."

"Like the letter."

"Letter?"

"The Scarlet Letter." Sometimes she wondered how Catherine ever made it through college. "It's a book about a woman sinning…"

"This dress was made for sinning." Taking Sara's hand she pulled her in front of the three way mirror. "Take a look." The form fitting strapless scarlet chiffon dress with a fluttery diagonal hemline exposing one knee and then tapering down to the floor on the opposite side was perfectly flirtatious and fun for the occasion. "When was the last time Grissom had a cardiogram?"

"Very funny," She droned as she checked her appearance in the mirror. There was no denying the dress fit like a glove and gave her curves in all the right places. "Hmm…"

Bunching up Sara's hair Catherine decided a flighty up-do would finish off the look. "Has he ever seen you in a dress, Sara?"

She laughed. "No. I don't own a dress."

"You'll want to skip the flat iron, put some curl back in your hair and pile it up. We'll buy some rhinestone clips and I'll show you how. Wear your diamond stud earrings but leave your neck bare." Catherine released her student's locks and circled for one last inspection. "We will need different shoes though."

"Thank you!" Grateful, she promptly kicked them off.

"Because you looked like a foal trying to find her legs when you walked out here, plus…you'll be taller than Grissom if you keep these." Picking up the shoes she chuckled. "But at least I got a good laugh watching you try to walk in them."

"And that's why I'm here…strictly for your amusement." Once more she checked out her rear, surprised once again to find she had one.

"Now…listen up." Catherine leaned against the wall. "Don't dress in front of him. You get ready from head to toe and only then do you walk into the room and let him see you. You want him to get the total package and be overwhelmed."

"You're cracking me up." Sara whimsically said, "If I knew you in high school I bet I would have gone to the prom."

"Realistically…I wouldn't have talked to you in high school."

"And I would have been scared to death of you."

Because she was on a tight schedule, she cut to the last action item. "One more thing." Reaching into her pocket she unfurled a black scrap of fabric. "I don't suppose you know how to fix a bowtie?"

"As well as you know how to explain quantum oscillations in quasi-two-dimensional organic metals."

"Talk like that is what kept you from going to the prom." Stepping behind Sara she prepared to impart one last bit of womanly wisdom. "Now pay attention because a trick like this is what gets your prom night off to a good start." In seconds Catherine had the bowtie expertly fashioned around Sara's neck.

"Uh Houdini…I'm going to need that in slo-mo." Sara tugged the end of the tie, undoing it. "If you can get an article of clothing on a guy that fast I can only imagine how fast you can get one off."

Catherine choked on her laughter.

Sara swatted her. "You know I meant get the _article of clothing_ off!"

Regaining her composure, Catherine said, "Promise me that when you leave town, you'll try your best to loosen up. You and Grissom don't have to hide your romance in San Francisco. So kick it up a notch…you've got the dress…go a little wild for once in your life. Do something outrageous. And when in doubt just ask yourself…would Catherine think this is fun?" She winked. "If the answer is yes then you'll probably enjoy it."

While swinging the bowtie, Sara joked, "Okay, do you have time to teach me to strip?"

"Now you're talking." Grinning, Catherine snatched the bowtie back and placed it around Sara's neck. "From the top in slow-motion…which coincidentally, is exactly how you want to start your dance. You see, stripping is all about the tease my dear…the slower the better..."

**1:07 p.m. **

Sliding into the booth at the Cheesecake Factory, Catherine apologized to Grissom. "Sorry I'm late. I was doing some charity work."

Extending a menu, he asked, "Since when do you do charity work?"

"I've been doing it ever since I met you." She grabbed the menu smirking. "So we're eating here at Forum because I needed to shop for your trip and I'm pleased to report…mission accomplished."

"Did you get the right information before making the purchase?"

A bubbly waitress interrupted. "Hi, I'm Tawny, are you ready to order?"

"Symphony Salad and a glass of your best Pinot Grigio." Catherine closed her menu while checking out the twenty-something's boob job. "And this guy will no doubt order meat of some kind because the little woman won't allow it in her kitchen."

He didn't let her down. "I'll have the filet and a glass of merlot."

"Thank you." The waitress shot them an obligatory smile. "I'll have your drinks right out."

Once the waitress was gone, Catherine pulled out a hand held DVD player and fiddled with the controls.

Surprised to see her with the gadget he remarked, "You're going to watch TV while we at lunch?"

"No." She slid the player in front of him. "You are."

"You've gone multi-media!" Amused, he cradled the player in his hand. "What is today's feature presentation?"

"A scene from a movie called Pretty Woman." After remembering the waitress's Botox lips, Catherine felt compelled to pull out her compact and inspect her lipstick.

"Never heard of it."

"Yes, you're one of four people on the planet who haven't seen this movie and the other three are living Area 51 in a fallout shelter." She shut her compact. "Press play."

Tawny returned with two glasses of wine. "Oooh! Pretty Woman! I love this movie."

"I told you everyone knows this movie." Catherine raised her brows. "Tawny, can you believe he's never seen it?"

"You've never seen it?" With school girl vigor she slid into the booth next to Grissom. "Oh you have to see it!"

Not expecting company, Grissom jumped before sliding to the far end of the booth.

The sight of Grissom's reaction to the personal space violation was more than Catherine could bear and she silently laughed into her glass of wine.

"This is a great part!" Tawny enthusiastically pointed to the tiny screen with her candy apple red fingernail, as she invaded more space.

Reconciling that Tawny was there to stay, Grissom moved the DVD player closer to her.

Whimsically she gave a play by play. "Julia's all dressed to go out and Richard Gere pulls out this gorgeous necklace and puts it around her neck…awww…see how happy he made her. Too bad it was only on loan and she didn't get to keep it."

Watching the screen, Grissom couldn't deny that the girl in the movie looked thrilled…and so did Tawny.

"Oooh look!" Tawny shrieked as she and her silicone breasts bobbed up in down in the booth. "Then he whisks her away in a limo and a jet to go to San Francisco to see her first opera. She has the best time. It's so romantic but what's really great is that he loves her even though she's a hooker." Looking at Grissom she sighed, "My boyfriend dumped me when he found out I was dancing at Club Paradise and I only go topless. Don't you think that's a little harsh?"

Grissom looked across to Catherine who was still cracking up into her wine glass which he noticed was now empty. "Personally I'm okay with a woman having a career."

Finally Catherine came to the rescue. "Tawny…honey…you're at your day job remember. No lap dances."

"Oh!" Quickly she retreated. "Sorry. That movie gets me every time. I'll uh…make sure your order is in and get you another glass of wine ma'am." With a wiggle in her step she walked away.

"Ma'am?" Catherine's tone turned icy. "Did that bitch just call me ma'am? Does she think I'm old enough to be her mother?"

"Technically…"

Catherine had to know. "They're Silicone right?"

"Most definitely. I think she actually bruised me with them." Putting down the DVD player, he lifted his glass.

"You need to rewind because I think you were distracted." Reaching into her purse she pulled out a Bvlgari bag and set it on the table. "They charged your account. I didn't bother to ask how much it was because I felt money was no object since it wasn't my mine I was spending." Then she added a little misinformation for good measure. "It will go very nicely with the black pantsuit Sara is going to wear."

After taking a long sip, he asked, "So am I supposed to take Sara to the opera and pretend she's a hooker?"

"That wasn't my original point but hey…" Winking, she raised her empty glass. "That's always a fun role play. Rewind that disc and you'll find out how much to pay Sara to be your _beck and call girl_."

On cue, Tawny showed up with the wine bottle and filled Catherine's extended glass.

Ignoring the waitress, Catherine continued teasing Grissom about the role play suggestion. "You never know unless you ask but maybe she'll strip for you at the end of the night if you're willing to pay her."

Tawny twittered a nervous smile. "I uh…don't do private engagements." Then she saw the Bvlgari bag on the table. "Well…how much are you willing to pay?" Glancing at Catherine she specified, "And it will double if you're going to watch."

"Well now we know why they call this place The Cheesecake Factory." Raising her glass, Catherine clinked hers to Grissom's. "Viva Las Vegas, baby."

**June 24, 2005 (Day 63) **

**Ritz-Carlton San Francisco**

**Room 512**

**6:03 p.m. **

While Sara was still busy in the bedroom, Grissom stood in the living room of the hotel suite desperately trying to complete his bowtie. When he purchased the tux it came with a little instruction card but try as he might his efforts were useless. Apparently a high IQ wasn't a good predictor of bowtie success.

Leaving the tie undone around his neck, he proceeded to the honor bar and poured himself three fingers of scotch. Halfway through his drink, he heard the bedroom door open and turned to toward the sound.

Sara trilled. "I'm ready." But nothing could have prepared her for how incredibly handsome Grissom looked in a tux. "Wow."

Per Catherine, Grissom was expecting Sara to be wearing a black pantsuit, which would have been fine but when he saw her strolling out of the bedroom in a ravishing red dress he was certain the scotch he just downed must have been poison and that he had died and gone to heaven. "You look…"

"You like it?" She asked while the answer shone like a neon sign in his eyes.

"I'm speechless." In silence he soaked in every glorious detail…the curves of her body, the creamy expanse of her neck, the irresistible grin on her face, and the romantic tendrils of hair framing her sparkling eyes. "Still…no words."

"And still no bowtie." Crossing the room, the dress flowed with her.

When her hands glided over his jacket, he knew the only thing more devastatingly beautiful than her look was her touch. Still at a loss for words he let his radiant smile communicate for him.

Having practiced this trick a dozen times she focused not on the task itself but the subtle details. "I can take care of this for you," she said in seductive whisper as she moved behind him with catlike poise.

Her hot breath on his neck as her fingers magically transformed the strip of silk into a bow sent him reeling. "Sara…I…"

"There." Slowly she smoothed her hands over his shoulders. "Very nice and I'm not referring to my bow-tying skills."

The words finally arrived and he turned around to say them. "You look amazing…everything…I love everything…" His voiced lowered. "I love you." He captured her mouth with a kiss as fiery as her dress.

When they came up for air she teased, "Are we in danger of missing the opera?"

"What opera?" Breathing deep he struggled to regroup. "Thank you for reminding me. Also…I have something for you."

"If it's another kiss like the last one I can safely say we're not leaving here anytime soon."

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he grinned. "It's not a kiss." Now it was his turn to move behind her. "I think you'll find it goes well with your dress."

The sparkle of white gold and diamonds filled her already wide eyes. Gasping she said, "This is so Pretty Woman!"

Her comment fortified his smile as he clasped the bauble around her neck. "The necklace compliments the dress but pales in comparison to your beauty."

Melting in his arms, she blissfully sighed. "We really have to get out of town and play dress up more often because I'm having the best time."

"And the night is still young."

**San Francisco Opera House - Lobby**

**6:32 p.m.**

Standing in the elegant opera house, her arm wrapped around Grissom's waist, Sara savored the public display of affection along with the sophisticated atmosphere and the glass of bubbly she was sipping. "Is this the same champagne we had in the limo?"

"Yes." He tapped his glass to hers. "Only the best for you, my dear."

"Well…" Grinning she nuzzled closer. "Considering this time yesterday you had me tape lifting a beer and urine soaked frat house, I'm thrilled with the change of pace."

"You smell much better tonight." He replied while breathing in her perfume.

"How about giving me a synopsis on the opera since the only Italian I know is diamante." She flashed her ring.

"Cosi fan tutte is about..." Deciding he would need to preface his explanation, he paused. "Now be patient because there is depth beyond the obvious plot."

Reading between the lines she remarked in a light laugh. "That means I'll find the obvious plot offensive."

He cleared his throat. "There are two young men, Ferrando and Guglielmo, each has a woman they hold dear to their heart. One day a man, a philosopher named Alfonso, comes along and tells the men that their women, if given the opportunity, will betray them because after all…cosi fan tutte…which means, _they're all like that_.

"Like what?"

"Fickle and easily duped."

"Ah…this sounds like a great opera to attend with your lover."

"Patience my dear." He raised his glass. "The men don't believe Alfonso so Alfonso bets the men that if they do as he asks, in one day, he will prove the women fickle."

Taking a guess at the outcome, she snipped, "And of course, being ego-driven bastards, they take the bet."

"Well there wouldn't be much of a story if they declined. As far as your cynical interpretation, I disagree." In her ear he whispered, "Being a romantic, I believe they take the bet in defense of their women…they truly believe they can prove Alfonso wrong."

"Okay." Gazing into his eyes, she smiled. "We'll go with your version."

"Thank you." He took another sip of champagne before moving on. "Out of blue the women are told the men need to report for military duty so they say their sad goodbyes."

"But it's a ruse. They're being set up."

"Yes. The men return in disguise and attempt to woo the women…and they woo not their own lovers but they swap."

"And considering the time period and the fact this was penned by a man, I'm sure the women are being portrayed as pathetically weak so they fall into bed with the _strangers _and the guys kill them for cheating." She rolled her eyes. "No wait…the women kill themselves because they aren't worthy enough to live."

"Thankfully Mozart was more creative than you and this is a comic opera, not a tragedy." He chuckled, knowing this would be her reaction. "You'll be happy to know the women actually rebuff the advances of the strangers which of course thrills the men."

"I sense a 'but' coming." Polishing off her drink, she stretched to set it on a nearby table.

"But…Alfonso reminds the men that the day isn't over yet and they promised to do everything he requests."

Putting it in familiar terms she said, "So Alfonso is the house and these guys don't know that the house always wins."

"Exactly…today Ferrando and Guglielmo would be welcome in any casino on the strip."

Leaning over, she brushed a kiss over his lips. "I just want to say that even though this story sounds like a bunch of sexist tripe, I'm having a wonderful time and you're a very good storyteller."

"Thank you.You're not a very good listener but I'm enjoying your commentary and frankly while you're wearing that dress you can say anything you want and get me to do anything you'd like."

After another kiss she prodded, "Please continue the story."

"Well…Alfonso asks the men to pretend to drink poison because they are so distraught that the women rebuffed their affection."

"Oh don't tell me." She lowered her head in her hand. "The men are miraculously saved and the women fall at their feet begging them to take them to bed."

He knew she'd be happy to hear this part. "Not until the men serenade them."

Sarcasm clung to her words. "It's nice to hear they held out for something special."

After placing his empty glass on the table next to hers, he made a correction. "Actually only one of the women falls at first."

"That must tick off the guy whose girlfriend did cheat."

"Absolutely." Grinning he told her, "Because…to use your words…now he's an ego-driven bastard. He'll do whatever it takes to get the other woman to fall for him."

"Which I'm sure he does because after all…cosi fan tutte."

"Nice to see you getting into the spirit of the opera, honey." Cupping her face, he stole a kiss.

"So how does it end?"

"Just as the women wed their new lovers, the ruse is revealed. The two men know their women betrayed them and the two women know their men tricked them…all of them are devastated and confused."

"And this is a comedy?"

"It's a comedy with a point."

"Which is?"

"That men and women do crazy things in the name of love. They play games, they succumb to fear and sometimes even though they have good intentions they end up hurting one another in the process." Slipping his arms around her he lowered his voice. "It is only when illusion is cast aside that lovers can build trust and find true happiness."

"Hmm…" Like so many times before he made her see a new angle to a situation. "That summary reminds me of a couple of well intentioned people I know. They played games for a while before getting to the truth."

"Art imitates life and men and women have been playing the same games for centuries."

"I'm glad we're through playing games."

"Me too."

The chandeliers flickered signaling the patrons to take their seats

Taking her hand, he led the way.

**San Francisco Opera House - Lobby  
****10:36 p.m.**

Still buzzing from her first opera experience, Sara clutched Grissom's arm as they strolled through the lobby.

"I'm so happy you enjoyed it." He knew by the look on her face throughout the performance she was having a wonderful time.

"All the times I've heard your opera CDs it never really came together for me but now that I've seen a whole production it makes more sense."

"Now that I own a tux and you own a dress maybe we can sneak off to the opera again in the future." Glancing at his watch he said, "Speaking of sneaking off. I'm going to run outside and call for the limo why don't you stay in here and wait for me."

She knew what he was really up to. "You're going to check on the kids, aren't you?"

"Considering the last time we were out of touch they got shot at and injured…"

"I was thinking the same thing." Pecking his cheek, she smiled. "Tell them I said to watch their asses out there because if it happens twice you may never take another night off."

"Be right back."

Standing against the wall, Sara's eyes closed as her smile widened. The night was perfect…beyond perfect…surreal in its perfection.

"Sara Sidle?" Brian Anderson asked in a shocked tone. "My god, it is you. What are you doing here? Last I heard you moved to Vegas."

Her eyes flew open. "Brian?" She couldn't believe she was standing face to face with sexual partner number twelve out of thirteen. Berkeley Brian, the last time she saw him he was starting his Ph.D in Chemical Engineering and had just finished celebrating his thirtieth birthday by screwing a blond English Lit student named Miranda…information she acquired when she showed up at Brian's apartment an hour early to surprise him before their date.

"You look..." He couldn't take his eyes off her. "Wow. You've changed a lot since we were together. I don't recall you even owning a dress."

Her body stiffened. She still couldn't believe she was standing face to face with sexual partner number twelve out of thirteen _and_ the bum was ruining her perfect night **_and_** he seemed to think she should be happy to see him.

"Aren't you going to say something?"

Getting a grip on her emotions, she finally replied, "I think I said everything I had to say the last time we saw each other." Glancing around she looked for Grissom, hoping Brian would disappear before his return and she could forget the whole thing.

"You're not…" He chuckled. "That was six years ago Sara you can't possibly still be upset."

Grissom, in a hurry to return to Sara, worked his way through the crowd. "I'm back." Breathing a sigh of relief, Grissom tucked his cell phone in his jacket pocket. "Everyone is fine." Then he realized something was wrong right in front of him. "Sara?"

"Hi." Brian extended his hand. "You are…"

Sara, believing, if you can't get rid of your loser ex-boyfriend you can prove to him that you're much better off, enthusiastically answered. "He's Dr. Gil Grissom. My husband. One of the nation's leading Entomologists, a real-estate developer, a philanthropist and a patron of the arts."

Grissom quickly shook the man's hand while processing the words that had just poured out of Sara's mouth. "And you are…"

Once again, Sara did the honors. "He's Brian Anderson. A chemical engineer and an arrogant ass who I last saw six years ago humping a blonde bimbo bitch named Miranda when he was supposed to be getting ready for a date with me. Apparently it's all supposed to be very amusing in hindsight but I'm not getting the humor of the situation."

Brian raised a brow. "Well now…this suddenly feels a bit awkward."

Grissom nodded while looking at Brian in a whole new light.

And then things took a turn for the complicated.

"Sorry I took so long, honey." Miranda strolled over and took her shawl while rubbing her belly. "This baby is kicking up a storm and the restroom was…." Then she noticed with whom Brian was speaking. "I don't believe it! Sara, is that really you? My goodness you look fantastic!"

"Honey…" Brian tried to warn her.

"How long has it been?"

Sara felt the need to qualify the question. "Since I found you in bed with Brian? Six years."

"You're not seriously still upset about that, are you?" Miranda chuckled. "My goodness, we're all adults. Besides, I see a ring on your finger so you've obviously moved on. Everything worked out for the best, right?"

Suddenly realizing that she was the only one feeling foolish, Sara decided not to let Brian and Miranda have the upper hand _again_. Breaking out into a jolly laugh she exclaimed, "Gotcha!"

Brian and Miranda relaxed while Grissom struggled to keep up.

"You always did have a quirky sense of humor, Sara." Brian noted.

Sara took Grissom's arm. "Miranda, I'd like you to meet my husband, Gil. The two of you have something in common…a love of English Literature."

Warmly she extended her hand. "I'm always happy to meet another literary scholar especially since my dear husband's head is devoted to science and not art. I had to drag him here kicking and screaming. He'd rather hear nails on a chalkboard than opera."

Grissom returned the greeting with the requisite response. "Nice to meet you."

Happy to see the tension gone, Brian made a suggestion. "How about we all go out for drinks to officially wash everything under the bridge and celebrate things turning out well for all parties involved?"

"Sounds great!" Sara eagerly replied. "Where should we tell our driver to take us?"

"Absinthe on Hayes." Helping Miranda on with her wrap he smiled. "You really had us going there, Sara. We'll see at the bar."

"See you there." She cheerily replied as they left the lobby. When they were gone she seethed. "Oh! I can't believe the audacity of those two. Unbelievable."

"What…?" Grissom was at a loss for words for the second time this evening.

Then she realized how awkward this must be for Grissom. "You must be…"

"I'm…I'm still trying to figure out what shocked me most." Staring at her he listed the options. "Hearing you call me by my first name, hearing you announce me as your husband, or hearing you accept an invitation to go out with your ex-boyfriend and his wife who you only minutes earlier referred to as a blond bimbo bitch." Dumbfounded he kept trying to decide.

"If I said no then they would think I was still upset about the whole thing."

"Aren't you?" A pang of insecurity echoed from the past as he contemplated that maybe Brian was _the one that got away_.

"I'm ticked that they were deceptive and showed total disregard for my feelings but I wasn't in love with him if that's what you're thinking. They were laughing at mebehind my back and then when I walked in on them that day they laughed in my face. It hurt. It still does. You heard them…they're still laughing." Taking his hand she said, "Of course now I'm thrilled it happened because if it didn't maybe I wouldn't have been in the right place to meet you." Caressing his cheek, she whispered, "I know without a doubt I'm where I'm supposed to be. I love you with all my heart."

Still a tad confused, he said, "So explain to me why we're meeting them for drinks?"

"Therapy…closure…Dr. Myers would approve." She chuckled. "Yes, closure with a teeny hint of revenge."

"Clarify that last part for me because I'm rather certain Dr. Myers wouldn't recommend that part."

Grinning she took his arm and headed for the door. "I know I got the better end of the deal and now I have a chance to _gently_ rub it in Miranda's face. We'll go out with them, you'll be devastatingly charming and literary with Miranda and soon she will realize that I have the better man and the joke is no longer on me, it's on her."

"Wait! Let me get this straight...you want me to flirt with the pregnant wife of your ex-boyfriend while you watch?" It sounded even stranger out loud than it did in his head.

"You don't flirt with her; you flirt with me while tossing out some Shakespeare and Yeats in her direction."

"I know you're a little hormonal after stopping your pills a few weeks ago but right before my eyes, you're morphing into a person I don't even know." He sighed. "Although it's in the past and I'm not jealous, I have to be honest, sitting across from a guy you used to date, and considering your strong reaction I assume you did more than go to the movies, really isn't…"

"I'm not hormonal!" She resented the insinuation. "And why shouldn't you do this for me? After all, I put up with Lady Heather!"

"For five minutes and if you recall, that didn't go so well."

"Not initially but like in the opera, lessons were learned from the experience and our love grew stronger. Who's to say the same won't happen tonight."

Stepping outside into the night air, he asked, "You see one opera and now you're trying to write your own? Why do you need to play this game, Sara? What's really going on here?"

"I'm wearing this beautiful dress and I have a wonderful man who loves me on my arm and for the first time I have a chance not to be the big loser in front of the fun pretty girl. Is that so wrong?" Slowly she turned showing off her appearance. "You said I could get you to do anything as long as I'm wearing this dress." Gliding her hands over the front of his jacket, she taunted him, "Come on…you're dressed for the part and you have all that literary knowledge rattling around in your head dying to get out. It will be fun. We're in a different city, in different clothes, let's do something a little crazy." She knew he was caving. "Please. We'd be playing the game together not against each other."

"What if Miranda doesn't care?"

"Are you kidding?" Sara laughed. "Of course she will because cosi fan tutte!"

While he knew he shouldn't, he indulged her. "Since you quoted from the opera…"

Thrilled he was agreeing she threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you, honey. Now just remember…talk books not corpses."

"Thankfully you were inspired by a comic opera and not a tragic one, so corpses shouldn't come into play."

**Absinthe Bar and Restaurant**

**11:10 p.m. **

Miranda and Brian already had a table when Grissom and Sara arrived at the bar.

Brian stood. "So glad you agreed to join us on such short notice."

Clearing his throat, Grissom straightened his tie. "We're spontaneous people." Or so it would appear on this particular night.

"Then more has changed about Sara than her wardrobe," Brian chuckled.

Holding out the chair across from Brian, Grissom smiled at his 'wife'. "Here you are, darling."

"Thank you." She was grateful they had downed half a bottle of champagne on the way over.

"So…" Miranda wasted no time firing off the first of her barrage of questions. "How did the two of you meet?"

Sara smiled as she placed her hand on top of Grissom's. "At Berkeley actually…over five years ago. Gil was lecturing and…"

"And the moment I saw Sara I was captivated. One smile and my heart was hers." Holding Sara's hand he soulfully said, "Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?"

Miranda smiled. "Christopher Marlowe."

"What were you lecturing on?" Brian inquired.

"The preservation of blowflies on decomposing human remains."

Sara checked her watch and noted almost two minutes elapsed before the first corpse was mentioned.

"That's right, Brian told me in the car on the way here that you are also an Entomologist." Miranda glanced at Sara. "What a romantic backdrop."

"Absolutely." Grissom countered. "What better reminder of the beauty and importance of love than the harsh reality of death?"

"I'm afraid I don't know who said that." Miranda reluctantly admitted.

"Sure you do." Relaxing in his chair he answered, "Gil Grissom."

Sara, thrilled with the moment, knew the points were already stacking up in her favor.

"So Sara, was Gil the reason you took off to Vegas so unexpectedly?" Miranda always assumed it was to get further away from Brian and her.

"Yes." Sara grinned. "He said he couldn't survive in Vegas without me." Technically he said the lab couldn't survive without her but who was he kidding, _the lab_ was a metaphor for him, she knew it then and she definitely knew it now.

Intrigued by Sara and her poetic entomologist husband, Miranda pried some more. "How long have you been married?"

As the plot thickened, Grissom let Sara do the talking.

"We uh…had a rather long engagement so we've only been married for oh…eight months." Actually it was only two months and technically they weren't married at all but somehow eight sounded right.

"Did you have a large wedding?" Miranda nosed.

"No…very intimate."

"Where did you honeymoon?"

"An exclusive bed and breakfast…very luxurious."

Grissom, getting into the spirit of the moment, added, "And they served the most delicious cubed kiwi fruit salad."

Sara chuckled. Although his comment made no points with Miranda, it scored big with her.

A waiter approached the table. "Sorry for the delay. What can I get you to drink?"

Miranda caressed her belly. "No alcohol for baby so I'll have cranberry juice with club soda and a twist of lime." Eyeing Sara she continued smoothing her hand over her stomach. "I'm six months pregnant with our first."

The waiter looked to Sara.

"I'll have what she's having, thank you." Smiling at Miranda, Sara announced, "Gil and I are expecting our first too." Like in operatic comedies…sometimes you stacked the deck to keep up with the other players in the game.

Brian immediately caught Grissom's reaction. "Gil, you look a little shocked."

Sara slapped Grissom's thigh under the table which was their pre-arranged code for 'just go with it'.

"You know…" Grissom threw his arm around Sara and pulled her close. "Every time she says it, it's like hearing it for the first time."

The waiter cleared his throat.

Grissom gladly made his request. "I'll have a double of your best scotch."

"Same here." Brian replied. "Now we have even more to celebrate."

"How far along are you, Sara?" Miranda eyed her. "With the way that dress is fitting you, you can't be more than a couple of months."

"Four months actually." Sara grinned. "I'm just blessed with a fantastic metabolism."

"Oh." Miranda remarked disappointedly. "You're one of _those _women." Moving beyond her irritation, she forged on with her questions. "What names have you picked out?"

"Names?"

Miranda glanced at her husband. "If it's a boy Brian wants to name the baby Jonathan after his grandfather and if it's a girl we're naming her Candace after my grandmother."

"Oh…names." Sara smiled nervously at Grissom who offered no help whatsoever. "We uh…like Catherine for a girl and Greg for a boy. They're family names too."

Miranda nodded approvingly. "Are you going to hyphenate?"

"Hyphenate?"

"Your last names. Will it be Sidle-Grissom or just Grissom?"

"Um…" Sara looked at her faux-baby's father. "No hyphen. Just Grissom." No sense in carrying on the Sidle name in honor of her dishonorable father.

And have you found a nanny yet?"

"A nanny?"

"Yes. I don't know how it works in Vegas but here, if you want a reputable one, you have to start looking for one even before the baby is born."

Brian groaned, "I think we interviewed twenty-six before finding one."

"A nanny, hmm…." Sara turned to Grissom. "Honey, I never considered that option before now. A nanny might make things more feasible."

Delicately he brushed a tendril of hair from Sara's face. "It's certainly doable."

The waiter returned with the drinks.

Brian promptly grabbed his scotch. "I don't know about you, Gil but all this pregnancy and baby talk can sometimes drive me to drink. Miranda can drone on and on over the littlest of details. The nursery looks like an art museum."

Raising his glass, Grissom replied, "When a woman chooses to give her man the most precious of gifts, the man should indulge her every whim."

Brian turned to his wife. "Who said that?"

"I believe that would be Gil Grissom again." Miranda groaned.

Sara swooned and knew they should make their escape now while they were ahead…way ahead.

From across the restaurant, a bus boy eagerly approached the table. "Dr. Grissom." He extended his hand. "I'm Rob Malcolm. I attended your lecture last month."

"Nice to see you again." Grissom shook the young man's hand.

"I've been running some of my own experiments wrapping various animal carcasses under varying conditions of sunlight and shade and it seems to me that the maggots I've collected off the decaying flesh…"

"Rob." Grissom held up a business card. "Why don't you e-mail your questions?"

"Sorry…I just get excited about this stuff." Rob took the card. "Thank you for your time."

Miranda shook her head. "One minute you're quoting British Lit and the next you're talking about maggots."

"He's a renaissance man." Sara proudly announced. "That's why we were at the opera tonight."

Brian nodded. "So he dragged you like Miranda dragged me."

"What makes you an opera fan, Gil?" Miranda inquired.

Sara listened intently as she never thought to ask the question herself.

"My mother's influence." He paused to take a sip of scotch. "She was a patron of the arts and for a period of time in my life, she always had opera playing. You could say I assumed her love of the art form."

Reaching out, Sara squeezed his hand.

"How do you get along with his mother, Sara?" Brian cracked, "Because you didn't hit it off so well with mine that time we had dinner with her."

Miranda blurted, "That's because you're mother is a bitch, darling."

"Unfortunately Sara never had the opportunity to meet my mother before she passed." Grissom pulled Sara's hand close. "But if they had met I assure you that my mother would have _liked_ her for her intelligence, wit and beauty." After brushing a kiss over the back of her hand he said, "But she would have _loved_ Sara for her compassionate heart and the simple fact that Sara loves me for who I am."

Suddenly Miranda's opinion didn't matter to Sara anymore.

"So how long are you in town?" Miranda asked.

"Just one night." Grissom replied while setting his empty glass on the table. "We flew in because Sara earned her doctorate from Berkeley."

"So it's Dr. Sidle now?" Brian smiled. "Congratulations on that too." He chuckled. "So many changes, Sara. Tell me…do you still like those pathetically sappy movies? Or did you change that for the better too?"

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Like the opera, I have to drag him to those. Really dear, you're as unromantic as they come."

"I love Sara's penchant for sappy films! She's a brilliant scientist and a romantic…it's a rare combo. Actually…that's why we attended the opera tonight." Sliding his arm around Sara's shoulders he spoke lovingly. "We fly all over the world recreating the best scenes from the sappiest romantic movies. Tonight was Pretty Woman…hence Sara's red dress."

Miranda, turning green with envy, focused on Sara's jewelry. "Don't tell me the necklace…"

"Oh yes." Grissom delighted in telling her. "I surprised her with it this evening but unlike the girl in the movie…Sara gets to keep it."

Brian checked his watch and cursed himself for inviting Sara and her perfectly poetic husband to join them.

Knowing he was on a roll, Grissom kissed Sara's cheek. "Next month we're flying to London to play out Bridget Jones. Right, darling?"

Sara shook with laughter. Bridget Jones was the only movie she could recall he ever watched with her from start to finish.

Grissom gleefully related the details to Miranda who was all ears. "I, as Mark Darcy, will try my best to inarticulately express my love to Bridget, while she wears a very silly short skirt."

"Look at the time!" Sara announced. Like Cinderella should have done, Sara wanted to leave the ball before midnight in the off chance that at the stroke of twelve she'd no longer feel like a princess. "We should get going, honey."

Brian couldn't have agreed more. "Yes…it's quite late."

"Yes." Miranda groaned as she glared at her unromantic husband. "It's way too late for me."

**Back of the Limousine  
****11:58 p.m. **

Sitting across from Grissom, Sara beamed as she raised the privacy screen of the limo. "You…were…awesome! Not that I didn't personally know that already"

"I had good material from which to work." He replied while tossing his unfurled bow tie aside. "For the record, I didn't lie about anything. Every word I uttered was absolutely truth."

"So we're really going to London next month?" She asked excitedly.

"Sure…if your boss gives you a week off."

"I guess that means I won't be buying a very silly short skirt any time soon." Rubbing her hands together she exclaimed, "Crack open the bubbly!"

"But what about the baby?" He rolled his eyes as he grabbed the bottle. "Little Catherine or Greg?"

"Sorry about that but she was totally playing the baby card in a shameless attempt to make me feel inferior."

Laughing at her logic, he poured two glasses of champagne. "And lying makes you feel superior?"

"I blame the dress!" She accepted the glass he was extending.

"Great…now you're a liar who isn't taking accountability for her actions."

"Completely irresponsible and out of character for me I know!" Giddy she exclaimed, "Later I plan to run with scissors!" Pausing, she chugged down some bubbly. "You were such a good sport about this whole thing."

"Thank you for noticing." He refilled her glass and topped off his while joking. "But I said I would do anything as long as you were wearing that dress and unlike you…I'm not a liar."

The champagne adding to her natural buzz, she purred, "So what happens if I take the dress off? Hmm? What will you do then?" Reaching over she pressed the call button.

"Yes?" The driver immediately responded.

"We'd like to see the sights the city has to offer."

Grissom suddenly realized there was an upside to irresponsible Sara.

"Any special instructions ma'am?" The driver asked.

Pulling the first rhinestone clip from her hair, Sara lustily replied, "Don't stop until I tell you." And with that she released the call button and another hair clip.

Polishing off his champagne, Grissom asked, "Was this in the movie? Because I didn't watch the entire film. What was it rated?" He was hoping for something a little higher than PG-13.

"No. It wasn't in the movie." She giggled as the last of her hair tumbled over her shoulders. "This is an original idea for a one of kind guy." Pointing at the radio controls next to him she said, "Music please."

"Any particular kind?"

"The slower the better," she purred. "Now let's review the rules. You can't touch me and…cash only."

**June 25, 2005 (Day 64)  
****Ritz-Carlton  
****Room 512  
****10:17 a.m.**

When he woke, Grissom discovered Sara asleep in his arms. Gently he brushed her curly hair off her face and whispered, "Good Morning."

Resisting the call, she moaned and burrowed further under the covers.

"I have no doubt you're tired after your performance last night." He whispered in her ear. "You never did tell me your stripper name."

"Mmm…" Turning she opened her eyes. "I think I'm a little hung over." It was a familiar feeling but not one she had experienced in ages. "Why are you waking me?" Her lips formed a smirk as she squirmed under the sheets. "Oh wait…I think I know."

"I have no idea what you're talking about?" He quipped as he tugged his white dress shirt off her shoulder. "I just want my shirt back."

"I need to keep it until I uh…get back from powdering my nose." Tossing back the covers she crawled out of bed and proceeded to the bathroom.

Two minutes later she darted out frantically stammering, "Last night…in the limo…when we… did you? Because I don't recall…"

Nodding, he graciously replied, "I had a great time. You were fantastic. I think you could prosper at the Satin Saddle."

"Not my question!" Her hands flew to her throbbing head. "Protection…did you think about it?"

"Sorry…I stopped thinking the minute your dress hit the floor."

"But you know the rule! Once I stopped taking the pill we agreed the responsibility was yours." Falling back on the bed she panted with anxiety. "Remember…don't come knocking..."

"I didn't knock." He reminded her. "You threw open the door and yanked me inside."

Covering her face she moaned. "But you were ultimately accountable."

"Can I blame the dress like you did?" Moving her hands he looked into her tension filled eyes. "I didn't intentionally forget if that's what you're thinking but I am sorry. Please don't panic. What are the odds? Think of the biology here. You just stopped taking the pill three weeks ago after taking it for years. Your body hasn't even caught up yet."

"This is because I lied about being pregnant. The lie…it's catching up with me." She neared hyperventilation. "I shouldn't have lied."

"Wow…you weren't even raised Catholic." Chuckling, he said, "Things don't happen because you feel guilty, Sara. Do your breathing thing.

"They happen for a reason."

"Or by accident." Tenderly he kissed her cheek.

4…3…2…1. Trying to lighten up she said, "See…I shouldn't wear a dress."

Pulling her close, he whispered, "Actually I believe it was taking off the dress that caused the problem."

Reluctantly she laughed.

"In the _unlikely_ event that you get pregnant, I will insist you rethink your name choices."

In his arms, she laughed harder. "Wouldn't Greg be thrilled to know I said I was naming your baby after him?"

Shaking his head, he muttered, "That was the most disturbing part of the evening."

When their laughter quieted she said, "In the _very _unlikely event I get pregnant, what names do you like?"

"Definitely not Brian." He teased.

"Or Heather."

"What was the limo driver's name? He was there for the magic moment, why not honor him?" Nibbling on her ear he reminded her, "He did provide a very smooth ride."

"His name was Vito." Once again she was shaking with laughter. "Vito Grissom."

"It's catchy."

* * *

_Next Chapter: Basic Instincts_

_If you've missed Greg he's back. Other than that all I'll say is…sit back and buckle up for the ride…_


	5. Basic Instincts

**Feasibility Study**

**Chapter 5: Basic Instincts**

**July 12, 2005 (Day 81)  
****Lab Break Room  
****10:09 p.m. **

With envious eyes, Sara watched Greg, Warrick and Catherine enjoying their jumbo mugs of piping hot gourmet coffee.

Caffeinated coffee…symbolic of the freedoms of non-pregnant life.

"Sure you don't want a cup, Sara?" Warrick asked. "You look like you're ready to pounce and kill me for mine."

"I'm sure." She raised her bottle of Aquafina to her lips and sipped.

Aquafina Pure Drinking Water…the liquid representation of the restrictions of pregnancy.

"What's with the java ban?" Greg asked, while savoring his steaming mug of caffeine. "I made this pot with my own stash…Kona Diamond Reserve. I know you love it."

"No really. I'm uh…doing this special health regiment." She pushed out a smile. "You know…purging my body of toxins."

Watching her down the large bottle of water, Greg goaded her. "Does this mean you're switching from Vegetarian to Aquatarian?"

Warrick laughed into his mug. "Would that make Grissom Aquaman?"

Their laughter made Sara's head hurt worse.

"Come on, Sara." Greg prodded. "That should have gotten a laugh from you. I think this new health regiment is bad news for your personality. You've been moody for days. We want the old Sara back. What's going on?" Extending a fresh cup of coffee, he said, "One cup and you'll cheer up."

Breathing in the tantalizing coffee aroma, she was forced to retreat to the corner of the break room. What's going on you ask? Greg, you're not the only one who wants to know. And while she was thinking it, as if on cue, Grissom entered the room to hand out assignments. Her eyes shifted to him…the other interested party.

"Hey boss." Greg greeted while presenting the mug that Sara declined to take. "Kona Diamond."

Wearing his excitement on his sleeve, Grissom took the mug and said, "Thanks, Greg. You know I love this stuff."

Catherine cracked, "Little does Greg know it's the only reason you kept him around back in the old days."

Sara's eyes widened. Was he going to…was he _really_ going to drink that in front of her.

"Ahhh." Grissom smacked lips for effect. "That's one good cup of coffee." It was even better than usual, because he was downing it in front of Sara while she stewed in the corner of the room.

Bristling, she clenched her water bottle tighter. He sounded like a damn TV commercial and he was doing it on purpose. On purpose! Deep down she knew she deserved it.

Catherine peeked at the assignment in Grissom's hand. "Where am I going?"

"You and Warrick have a 407 in Torrey Pines Estates." He handed her the slip of paper. "The owner thinks it was one of his disgruntled employees."

Warrick placed his mug in the sink and followed Catherine toward the door. "Robbery…nice change of pace. No DB. Good neighborhood. Thanks, boss."

Sara simmered some more as she watched Grissom and Greg chat over the savory coffee. Unable to contain her irritation for another second she blurted. "What's my assignment tonight?" She knew what he'd like to assign her. The same assignment he gave her earlier today…the same thing as yesterday and the day before and the day before that. "What would you like me to do tonight?"

Of course he didn't say it. He was dying to say it but he couldn't because they were at work and Greg was in the room. But she knew he was thinking it because he had been thinking and talking of nothing else for eight days straight.

He knew she knew what he really wanted to say, but this wasn't the time or the place and what difference did it make anyway? He asked twelve hours earlier and got nowhere just like he had the day before and the day before that and every day for the last eight days.

Instead he said, "Sara I need you to accompany Greg to the firing range. He needs help if he's ever going to get firearm certified and…" He stopped himself from saying it but he thought it…_and you need to release a little tension, honey_. Smiling he said, "…you are an adept markswoman and a patient instructor so I'd appreciate you helping him."

His mouth said one thing but she saw another message in his eyes. "I'll do whatever I can to help."

"How thoughtful of you." He remarked before savoring another big gulp of coffee.

Greg chortled while looking at Sara. "Uh…I'm a little afraid to be near her when she has a gun. This new health regiment of hers has left her a little edgy."

Grissom feigned ignorance. "Really? I haven't noticed." His gaze turned to Sara as he thought. I haven't noticed except for every day for the last eight days and I don't know if you've noticed but it's driving me crazy…_you _are driving me crazy and there's no rational explanation for your behavior. It's wearing me down. I'm thinking things I don't want to think…I'm saying things I don't want to say and now I'm doing things I don't want to do. We're playing games again, Sara and this time we're not on the same side. It shouldn't be like this. Why are you making it like this?

With a vice grip on her water bottle Sara stared Grissom down. "Let's go, Greg."

Greg handed his mug to Grissom. "Promise you'll look for me if I don't come back and if I am end up dead, tell my mom I love her."

Sara let Greg walk out of the room but she stopped at the door and folded her arms across her chest. "How's that coffee, honey?"

"It's great. There's still more in the pot." He took another sip. "Oh wait… you're not sure you can have some."

Shutting the door, she stepped into the empty room with him. "Stop it."

Cooly he replied, "Only you can."

In a jittery voice she said, "And that's driving you crazy…the loss of control…not knowing the answer."

"No." Putting his mug down, he dropped his guard. "What's driving me crazy is not understanding why you don't want to know." Try as he might not to let the hurt show, it poured as easily as Kona Diamond. "Would a positive result be so horrible? Is that why you can't bring yourself to do the test? How long are you going to keep us in the dark? Why are you doing this to us, Sara? Why are you doing it to me?"

"I…because…" On a dime she turned and left the room. "Greg is waiting."

Alone in the break room he sunk into the nearest chair and wondered how they had gotten to this point.

_Eight days ago Sara was sitting in her home office reviewing her calendar when she finally admitted she was two days late. Of course since her cycle was no longer regulated by pills they knew there could be an alternative explanation. _

"_Honey, it doesn't mean…" _

"_I know." She smiled as she turned the calendar page on her daytimer._

"_And if you are we will…"_

"_I know." _

_Anxious to know the answer, he said, "It will only take a minute to find out. When we go to work we'll draw some blood and…"_

"_No." _

"_Why?" Her expression puzzled him along with her answer. They spend every day performing tests and getting results. Why should this be different? _

"_I'd rather wait." Standing up she walked out of the room. _

"_Sara…I'm sorry, are we done talking?" He called after her. Wait? Why would she want to wait when the answer could be revealed right now? "Sara?" _

"_I'm meeting Carrie for lunch to review some ideas for the back pack project." Returning to the room she kissed his cheek. "We'll talk later. Bye." _

_Before he hit the hallway he heard the front door shut. _

As promised, they talked later but nothing was resolved because moments after they started conversing, Sara said she was tired and went to sleep. Since then, day after day it was the same conversation only some of the words changed. Instead of leaving to meet Carrie, Sara would say she had to finish some work or that she had a hair appointment or that she was too exhausted to discuss it. She kept avoiding the issue. Why?

As of this morning, she was ten days late and still refusing to take a test even though she was living like she was pregnant. Why? He racked his brain. Does she instinctively know and won't tell me? Did she secretly test and find out the answer but won't share it with me? Why won't she open up to me?

The unanswered whys were breaking him down.

**Police Firing Range **

**10:58 p.m. **

Once Greg realized he and Sara were alone inside the firing range, he eased his stance. "At least no one will be watching."

Focused on Greg and the task at hand, Sara relaxed for the first time today. "I know you hate this but you need to do it."

"It's the only part I hate," He groaned. "I love the job. I wake up every day looking forward to learning more and doing more. I hate the gun, Sara. I hate it." Scratching his head he said, "The cops have guns. That's enough protection for me."

"Relying on someone else to protect you is nice but it doesn't always work out." Loading her cartridge, she sighed. "You never want to think of the scenario. None of us do. But it's happened and it could happen again." Snapping her cartridge in her pistol she said, "Speaking of protection." She grabbed a set of ear guards and Greg followed suit.

Behind her, Greg watched her pump out nine perfect shots to the kill zone of the paper target. "Damn, Sara." He exclaimed as the paper target returned on the pulley.

Quickly she snatched it and replaced it with a new one. "Your turn." She pulled off her ear guards and motioned for him to do the same. "Before you shoot let's look at your form." She handed him the empty pistol.

Taking the gun he stepped up and took a stance, trying his best not to shake.

"Good." Taking the gun back from him, she loaded it while he put on his ear guards. "Focus on the target and empty the cartridge."

Shaking uncontrollably, he fired, missing the kill zone every time. "I'm never…" Ripping off his ear guards he tossed them. "It's useless, Sara."

"It's all mental." She softened. It was easy to relate since she was wrestling with her own mental block at the moment. "I know what's going on. You're scared and you're letting your fear stop you from doing what you need to do."

Putting the gun on the counter he knew she was right. "If I can't pass the test then I can't carry a gun and since I don't want to carry a gun…I don't pass the test."

"Exactly." Leaning against the wall she turned her focus inward and ran through her own scenarios. If I take the test and find out I'm _not _pregnant I will be scared. Scared because I know I'll see disappointment in his eyes and he might see relief in mine. Would he see relief? Or would he see something else? Something I can't admit to myself? That scares me too. The study was going so well…I was getting comfortable, even excited and then…this had to happen and thrust me into uncertainty.

Greg leaned on the opposite wall and wrestled with his own demons. If I pass the test I will be forced to carry a gun. If I have a gun, one day I may be required to use it and if I do what if I make a mistake? What if I shoot the wrong guy? What if I shoot my team mate? In that split second, what if I hesitate and it costs me my life or worse…it cost one of my team mate's his or hers?

Sara closed her eyes. If I take the test and find out I am pregnant I will be scared. Scared because everything will change and I'll be on my way to being something I'm not sure I'm capable of being. I'll be required to give something I barely received…a mother's love. What if I don't know how? What if Grissom is disappointed in my ability? Hell, I've been worrying about that since the day I met him but I've always been able to impress but this time I'm not sure I can rise to the challenge.

Dropping his head in his hands, Greg ruminated further. If I carry a gun, one day I may have to use it and when I do, what if I kill someone…even the _right_ person…the bad guy. Can I handle the blood of another on my hands even under the _right _circumstances?

Her stomach churning, Sara tried to find solid ground and wondered why it was so hard. How is Grissom so confident that everything will be okay? How is it that he was so terrified of a relationship that he hid for years but as soon as we got together he got calm about everything? He's even calm about the possible pregnancy. I've been so crazy with fear I know I'm hurting him. I know I am and yet…I can't stop. Unbelievable…I've turned into the old Grissom. Is this what it felt like to be him when I was pursuing him? I'm paralyzed with fear and while I know he's right there, I can't open up to him because I'm afraid I'll ruin what we have. Although I know I'm ruining it right now by doing nothing. Unbelievable…we've gone back in time and traded places.

Greg felt the knot twisting in his stomach. Grissom gave me multiple chances to pass my field test. He had every right to deny me the CSI position but he didn't. He had faith in me. Now I'm disappointing him. This time he isn't going to be as forgiving and I don't blame him.

The voice of the range manager boomed over the loud speaker. "Are you two sleeping down there?"

Snapping out of their individuals hazes, they looked up to the control booth. Sara shook her head at the man and then turned to Greg. "I guess we better get back to the task at hand."

"Yeah."

"Gun's empty." She handed it to him. "Take your stance."

He did as asked.

Stepping behind him she said, "Now we're going to talk through your concerns." Wrapping her arms around him, she placed her hands on the gun with his and steadied his arms. "You're not alone." It was a therapy trick to help a person feel secure and open up. She thought it might help. "What's on your mind?"

"Um…" Taking a deep breath, he said, "How can I be sure I'll know what to do in that critical millisecond of time? What if I freeze and I don't do anything at all? And what if my hesitation has a price?"

"You won't hesitate."

"How do you know?"

"Basic human instinct." She spoke calmly. "Tell me what you know about the subject."

"Humans are born with certain instincts…like the instinct to survive."

"And part of that instinct is fear." Currently, she related to the emotion quite well. "Fear allows our bodies to react before our conscious mind has even registered danger."

He cleared the lump in his throat. "Fear is a defense mechanism. So even before my mind knows what to do, my body will respond."

"Right." She smiled. "Can you think of another?"

"The instinct to compete?"

"Yes…the will to win." She chuckled. "Men used to fight over dinosaur meat now they fight over a football. We're all primitive creatures, including you."

"So when I shoot, I'll shoot to win."

"Yes." She could feel the tension leave his body. "Now focus on the target while we keep talking. Visualize hitting it. What's another instinct?"

"Okay." Finally loosening up he said, "There's sexual instinct...which is necessary to keep the population going. Do you know that women are instinctively drawn to men with wide shoulders when they want sex?" Rolling his eyes, he groaned. "They cry on the shoulders of the scrawny guy."

"Explains why Nick saw so much action for so long." She teased. "Also explains why you've been going to the gym more."

They shared a laugh.

"Of course the strongest instinct of all doesn't apply to me," he said while he eyed the target. "A mother's desire to protect her offspring. Although if I had a kid I'd fight to protect it with my life."

"You think about having kids, Greg?" She was surprised.

"Well right now I focus on _prevention_ but some day, yeah, I want a family."

She couldn't resist the tease. "Some day…when your shoulders are bigger?"

He laughed.

Feeling comfortable and needing a shoulder…no matter what size, she inquired, "Can I ask you a question and be sure it will stay between you and me."

"Of course." Pleased to be chosen as someone's confidant, he smiled. "Does this mean I'm taking Nick's place as your favorite brother?"

Is that what she was doing, she wondered. "Between Nick's new job and Carrie his time is limited these days so maybe I'm trying you on for size?"

"Is that why you have your arms around me?" He grinned.

"You're not getting excited about that fact are you?"

"No!" Laughing, he quickly informed her of the new reality. "You're strictly sister material now."

Laughing with him she remarked, "My, how far we've come. If I had my arms around you like this a year ago you would have asked me to marry you."

"Absolutely."

They didn't notice Grissom had walked up behind them.

Watching Sara with Greg, Grissom's pain intensified. It was the first time he heard her laughter in a week and it hurt that she was laughing with Greg. Clearing his throat he alerted them to his presence. "I hate to interrupt all the fun you're having."

Startled they jumped and Greg dropped the gun.

"It's not loaded!" Sara alerted both men as Grissom tensed and Greg shrieked. So much for Greg's survival instinct, she thought as she picked up her gun.

"Target practice without bullets?" Grissom hissed.

"We uh…had bullets." Greg pointed to the target.

"Nice job, Greg." He shook his head. "You shot a pinky finger off the enemy. Hopefully it was from the hand in which he was holding his gun or you're dead."

"You're not helping." Sara snapped. Her words applied to both hers and Greg's dilemmas. "More pressure doesn't make things easier, it makes them harder."

Greg cringed as he flashed back to his parents disagreeing over his quitting the swim team. Dad was disappointed and mom got in his face telling him not to push so hard. "I'm fine, Sara." He said while turning to Grissom to face the music. "I'll pass the test the next time I take it. If I don't I'll go back to the DNA lab."

As much as he hated to say it, Grissom replied, "That's exactly what's going to happen."

Greg swallowed hard. "Speaking of DNA…I need to bug Max for my results on the Garvey case so I'll uh…be going now." As he walked down the hall he imagined _mom _and_ dad_ would now disagree over the handling of the matter.

Alone in the firing zone, Sara snipped. "You're being way too hard on him and you know it."

"Unlike other matters, Greg is solely my responsibility and I'll handle him how I see fit." Posturing he reminded her of the facts. "Every time Greg goes into the field with someone he can't provide adequate back up. I can't send him anywhere alone until he gets certified. He needs to pass his test or he'll have to go."

Sara, her eyes welling up, stared at Grissom. "What's going to happen to me if I don't pass my test? Will you send me packing too?"

Glancing around he made sure no one was coming. "I can't believe you'd _think _something like that no less verbalize it to me. We made a promise to one another…a commitment. If you think I could dismiss you then you must feel you could just as easily dismiss me." Anger filled his voice. "Besides, you can't possibly know how I feel or what I'd do because you won't talk to me about the issue and you won't listen to anything I say. You've shut down and shut me out and you know _exactly_ why that unnerves me, which makes me wonder how you can do it to me at all."

Unnerved by his forceful tone, she gulped. "Again…you're not helping."

Realizing he was raising his voice, he took a deep breath. "I'm upset. I have a right to upset but I don't have a right to yell. I'm sorry."

She knew he was hurting and she fought to find the courage to spill her fears.

"Sara, this is getting out of control and for what reason? I don't think I've done anything wrong but only you can tell me. Nine days ago we were perfect and now…" His pager interrupted his plea. "Double homicide." Rubbing his temples, he said, "Get the details and take Greg. I've got an interview to conduct in twenty minutes and then I'll meet you at the scene. It's in the mountains so gear up."

Nodding, she slapped another full cartridge in her weapon, holstered it and left the range.

**July 13, 2005 (Day 82)**

**Crime Scene**

**Dales Trail – Blue Diamond, NV**

**5:36 a.m.**

The sun burst over the horizon signaling the beginning of a new day. No doubt another scorcher since yesterday peaked at 110.

Sara and Greg had arrived on the scene at one o'clock and Grissom showed up an hour later. The darkness and the rough terrain didn't make things easy for them to do their jobs.

The two DBs were males in their twenties. The deaths weren't random, they were executions…one, took a bullet in the third eye without struggle and the other had been brutally beaten and shot three times. No doubt who died first. Drug related crime was the assumption by Vartan and his boys, who did their jobs and secured the scene then waited for the CSIs to process along with the coroner.

By five a.m. the cops were done and rather certain that no evidence would be found. The killers were professionals and left no evidence behind.

As usual, Grissom and Sara weren't giving up that easily and now with day light shining down on them they knew they'd find something. Funny how their personal worlds could be off kilter but their jobs didn't suffer. Actually not that surprising since they function that way for many years. Work was always the safety zone and the communication never difficult.

Looking out over the rugged landscape, Sara commented, "Only one set of tire tracks and only one way out."

With his back to hers he looked at the location of the tire marks. "Four sets of footprints leading from the car."

"Two vics."

"Two killers."

"No murder weapon." She scanned the mountains.

"No fingerprints."

Pointing to marks in the dirt she said, "One of the guys ran and was dragged back"

"How far did he get before they got to him?" He turned around. "And why are there tracks in varying directions?"

She turned too. "What did they leave behind as they were chasing him?"

Their eyes met for the first time in the full light of the day.

Suddenly overwhelmed, Sara softly said, "Grissom, I want to…"

"I'm back." Greg bounded over. Nature had called and as he had learned early on in his CSI career, you answered the call as far away from the crime scene as possible. "What's the plan? I see everyone else is packing up. Are we?"

Breaking away from Sara's gaze, Grissom switched gears. "No. You and Sara need to stay here and extend your sweep of the area. I need to return to the office to conduct another interview." Brass was on his case about the empty position and no amount of banana bread was going to get him off his back.

"Hey Grissom!" Vartan yelled from the trailhead. "I need you over here before we head out."

"Keep me posted." He said as he turned to walk away.

Sara filled her lungs with warm air. "It's divide and conquer for us, Greg. And I'm not going to be happy leaving here until we find something."

**6:14 a.m. **

Ten minutes ago, Sara left Greg by the truck and walked a half mile with a plan to canvass the area and meet in the middle.

Tedious as it was to walk and search each inch of desert she welcomed the task. The area was picturesque and the only sounds were that of the chirping birds flying overhead. It was a great place to clear her head.

When she saw something glittering in a bush she reached down to inspect it. She readied her tweezers. A silver match book. Could be something relevant. Could be something left behind by hikers. From her pocket she produced an envelope and dropped the potential evidence inside.

Next to her foot she noticed an ant hill and she paused to watch the busy insects dart about around her. They reminded her of home…of Grissom…of their little family…of the baby that could be growing inside her. What have I been doing? Am I crazy? Reaching for her cell phone, she couldn't wait to call him and when she saw the 'out of area' indicator, her heart sank.

"I'm back." Grissom said as he dropped to one knee beside her.

She jumped. If it was the middle of the day she would have assumed the heat had gotten to her and he was a mirage, but it was morning and it was only eighty degrees and she knew he was really there. Her voice sang with delight. "I was just trying to call you but I'm not getting any service."

"Yes you are." Smiling he produced a large take-out coffee cup. "_**Decaf** _Iced Mocha."

"Where did you…"

"That little tourist trap out on the highway. He set the cup on a boulder next to her. "They were opening when I was driving by and it hit me…decaf coffee. I'm sorry about the coffee thing this morning, Sara. It was juvenile but I was hurting…I still am. However, I think I finally understand why you're doing what you're doing. All I had to do to understand it was remember I behaved the same way in the past. Anyway…I brought the decaf as a peace offering. With the peace I hope we can start talking."

"Where's Greg!" She impatiently asked.

"I got him a coffee too." He pointed. "He's taking five lying down in the truck listening to garbage on the radio."

That was all she needed to hear. Throwing her arms around his neck she exclaimed, "I'm so sorry. I know I hurt you. I was scared…I'm still scared but I never should have shut you out. Please forgive me."

Without hesitation, he returned the embrace.

For a minute they relished each other's touch…something they hadn't enjoyed in week.

Sara broke the silence. "What I said at the range…I didn't mean it. I know you'd never send me packing, that was fear talking and I'd never walk away or send you away. I'd never break our commitment to each other. Please believe me."

"I believe you." Feeling her tremble, he tenderly stroked her hair. "I'm sorry too. You needed some space and I pushed too hard. I knew you were scared but I was scared too. You were just getting comfortable with saying the words when this happened. It was too soon for you to deal with it."

Clinging to him, she whispered, "I love you."

Three words never sounded so good to him. "I love you too, honey."

Pulling back she caught his eyes with hers. "As soon as I get home we'll do the test."

He smoothed her hair. "Thank you. The not knowing is killing me."

Wiping away her tears, she said, "I know it's going to be positive."

With trepidation he asked, "And how will that make you feel?"

"It will make me feel so many things…nervous…frightened…tense." Stroking his cheek she released the next adjective. "Happy."

"Me too…all of those things." Glancing over his shoulder he saw the coast was still clear so he stole a kiss.

"This is getting out of hand." She chuckled. "We've never kissed at a crime scene. We're ruining our perfect reputation. I'm going to have to change my name to Catherine. I hope the boss doesn't find out and fire me."

"That reminds me." He checked his watch. "I'm going to be late for my prospective employee."

"Please hire someone."

"No one fits." Pulling his CSI ball cap out of his back pocket, he put it on her head. "It's getting sunny. Promise me you'll stay hydrated." Then he produced a Power Bar from his shirt pocket. "To go with your coffee. I noticed you didn't eat anything all night."

"So protective." Her heart soared.

"It's primal instinct now." He grinned as he stood. "You know…preservation of the species."

Tipping her cap at him with one hand, she grabbed her drink with the other. "I'll see you at home."

"Call me and let me know when you're on your way." He hated to leave her and toyed with canceling the interview but realized it would be irresponsible.

"Okay." As he walked back to his truck, she sipped her coffee. Across the field she yelled, "Best damn cup of coffee I've ever had!"

Turning back he smiled and flashed the _I love you_, sign.

She sighed. Who needs caffeine when you're high on life?

When Grissom's truck finally disappeared down the road, Sara went back to work. Although it was sad to see him go, it wasn't like he was really gone. She had his hat on her head and his future child in her womb. She laughed at her own sappy thought and blamed the influx of new hormones. As the minutes passed she grew more comfortable with the pregnancy and she couldn't wait to take the test and make it official.

**7:01 a.m. **

Combing the ground Sara couldn't stop grinning and when she heard footsteps, she called out. "Greg, you'll be happy to know my mood has improved and I forecast it will keep getting better as the day progresses."

"Move and you're dead!" An unfamiliar voice snarled.

Denying the terror trying to seize her, she remained calm. "I'm not a cop." Without knowing who was behind her or what weapon he was pointing, she had no choice but to cooperate because by the time she drew her weapon he could have a shot off.

"Put your hands in the air and don't turn around. Do it now!"

While following the instructions she said, "I'm only here analyzing the crime scene." She could feel him right behind her but she forced herself to remain calm and stuck to protocol. "I don't know what you look like. I don't have a radio on me. My cell phone isn't working. If you want my truck take it." Without turning her head she scanned the area for Greg but didn't see any sign of him. "I'm not a threat to you."

The voice barked. "If you're not a cop then why do you have gun?"

Before she could reply the man's hand was over her mouth and her own gun was pointed to her temple. "Oh wait…you don't have a gun…I do. And if you're hoping your partner is going to bail you out forget it...I already took care of him but he didn't have the keys to the truck."

Sara pushed the attacker's horrific comment about Greg out of her mind. Focus on the moment, she silently screamed. The moment! Nothing else!

"Yes, I want your truck but you're coming with me. My partner left me out here when I hit my head on a rock. I woke up when I heard the sirens last night and hid. Must have passed out. When I woke up again, you were here." His voice turned ugly. "Thanks for staying baby because now I have a ride and I bet you're a real nice ride."

Upon hearing those words Sara knew cooperation wasn't an option. You never get in the truck because if you do you're not coming out of the situation alive and before you die the attacker would make you wish you were dead. In that moment she knew…now it's about finding the right opportunity. Now it's primal…it's either him or me.

Deciding her odds would be better if they were closer to the truck, she let him walk her across the landscape while using the time to assess the situation…to consider the options. Remembering the attacker would be the one surprised she knew the first two seconds would be hers but if those two seconds didn't go well he would once again have the upper hand.

The best defense against a gun is to remove yourself from the line of fire. In an open field that wasn't an option, which meant she had to take control of the weapon and disarm at all cost…and now the stakes were higher than ever…preservation of the species…but her drive was higher too.

They neared the truck. Twenty feet…fifteen feet…ten feet…now.

Faking a sneeze she distracted his mind for just long enough to set the defense in motion. It ran perfectly…stomp his toe while grabbing the gun, twist around, kick the back of his knee send him down but before he fell he latched onto her arm taking her with him.

For the first time she caught a glimpse of her opponent, he was huge, covered in tattoos and blood caked on the side of his head where he must have hit the rock.

"Bitch!" He screamed as he wrestled her for the gun.

Each fighting to win, the battle was fierce…he using his strength, she using her knowledge of weaponless defense.

Finally the gun flew, landing twenty yards away in the dirt. Jumping to her feet, Sara attempted to race for it but the attacker grabbed her foot sending her crashing to the ground.

Her vision was blurry from her head slamming against the packed desert soil and rock, but she saw and heard enough to know he was rushing for the gun and she was powerless to stop him.

Her mind turned back to the happy moment she had shared with Grissom only an hour ago and when she heard the shot ring out she closed her eyes.

"Sara!" Greg screamed as he continued to point Sara's gun at the attacker's lifeless body. Shaking uncontrollably, blood ran down the side of his head and over his shoulder. "Sara, are you okay!"

Breathing deep Sara realized she was still alive. "I'm okay."

Greg's voice trembled in rhythm with his body as he kept the gun aimed. "I'm…uh…pretty sure he's…dead."

As her vision focused she saw her attacker's body splayed on the ground as if he were in the middle of making an angel in the dirt. His white t-shirt soaked in blood from a direct hit to the chest, she had no doubt he was dead. "Lower the gun, Greg."

"I don't think I can move, Sara." He couldn't even blink.

Reaching over, she grabbed Grissom's ball cap which had flown off her during the struggle and returned it to her head. Then slowly she rose to her feet. Covered in dirt and aching from head to toe she walked over, stood behind Greg and put her arms around him. Placing her hands on the gun she pried his fingers off of it and took it out of his hands. Her voice was steady. "You did the right thing at the right time. You saved my life."

His voice quivered as he stared at the dead man. "One minute I was looking for evidence and the next thing I remember is waking up and hearing you scream. When I came around from the other side of the truck I saw you on the ground and him running toward me and then I saw the gun…" Turning his gaze to Sara he said, "I don't even remember shooting the gun."

"Instinct took over." Putting her arm around his shoulder she smiled. "Now help me back to the truck before I pass out."

"Okay." He slid his arm around her waist and they both stumbled. "Damn, my head is killing me."

Wobbling, she said, "We're only calling Brass, understand? Even if I pass out, don't call Grissom."

"What if we both pass out?"

"You won't." She smiled. "You're a superhero now...with very big shoulders."

**Las Vegas Crime Lab  
****Grissom's office  
****7:44 a.m. **

Following the department's interview packet to the letter, Grissom went through the motions with this latest CSI candidate but he already knew she wasn't the right one.

Moving onto the next question he droned, "Tell me about your education."

Before the woman could answer the office door swung open.

Grissom's eyes darted up. "Jim, I'm in the middle of an interview here."

"I know and I hate to interrupt but I need your help with something. You need to come with me." Brass paused in front of the interviewee and smiled. "Please see my secretary about scheduling another appointment. I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience."

The woman nodded and proceeded to gather her materials.

Baffled but glad, Grissom closed his interview packet. "You're the boss." Standing up he inquired, "Where are we going?"

"To the hospital." He replied casually. "I have a couple of witnesses and I'm going to need you to process them."

"Why me?" He wondered as he walked out of the room with Brass.

"The situation is a little tricky so I want someone with your expertise." He fortified the ruse with a laugh. "And like you said…I'm the boss so whatever I want, I get." Soon they would be out of the building and in the car, in fifteen minutes they'd be at the hospital and that's when he'd break the news. Then he would only be seconds away from Sara which Brass figured was the maximum amount of time Grissom could hold it together after hearing the news.

**Spring Valley Hospital  
****Emergency Room  
****8:01 a.m. **

Sara lay in bed wearing her filthy clothes while the ER nurse drew a vial of blood from her arm.

The nurse smiled. "It won't take long and once we have the results we'll know if we can take you to x-ray and give you pain medication. Change into the gown on the table next to you."

"Okay." Sara softly replied. "Can you tell me how Greg Sanders is doing?"

"He needs stitches but he's doing fine." The nurse informed her as she pulled back the curtain to exit.

Beyond the nurse, Sara saw Grissom rushing through the ER, his face white as a sheet and his eyes blazing with worry.

Seconds later he was sitting on the bed cradling her in his arms.

The nurse closed the curtain to give them privacy.

"I'm fine," she whispered. She could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

Remembering she was injured, he loosened his grip on her. Bringing his hands to her bruised face, his fingertips gently traced a four inch scrape. Tears, not words, flowed.

"Everything is okay." She assured him while wiping away the drops. Never had she seen him so distraught. "I look bad but it's not serious."

Guilt finally fueled his words. "If I didn't leave you at the scene…"

"There was no reason to believe it wasn't safe. It was cleared. This was a fluke." Wrapping her arms around him she whispered, "If you hadn't come back and given me the coffee and Power Bar I wouldn't have had the energy to put up a fight." Now her tears flowed. "If you hadn't come back I wouldn't have had the chance to tell you I love you and I'm happy about the baby. In that last minute when I thought I was going to die…" The reality finally crashed down around her.

Clinging to each other they let their emotions run their course.

Eventually Sara choked out some words. "Let's…let's stop thinking about what could have happened and look forward."

They wiped each other's tears while Sara said, "The nurse took my blood." The corners of her lips curved into a smile. "We should know the results any minute."

"Did you sustain any injuries that could jeopardize…"

"No." Tenderly she caressed his face. "Did Brass tell you how Greg saved me out there?"

Inhaling sharply and finding confidence in Sara's smile, he continued to regain his composure. "Yes. He did. I guess your bullet-less training technique worked. By the way, Brass is with Greg right now in case you were worried he was alone."

"I was." She smiled brighter. "Good thing I gave Greg that lesson when I did."

Relief finally washing over him, he said, "Suddenly it doesn't bother me anymore that you wanted to name my child after Greg."

As much as it hurt her bruised face she chuckled.

Without warning the nurse pulled back the curtain. "I have your results."

Clasping hands, Sara and Grissom looked at each other as the nurse read the paper.

"Ms. Sidle, you're not pregnant."

"Are you sure?" Sara asked her voice fraught with disappointment.

Grissom gripped her hands tighter.

"We ran it twice." The nurse backed away. "I'll give you a few minutes and then we'll take you to x-ray."

"I thought for sure..." Sara's voice faded as she thought, how odd that I could be so frightened of a positive result but get a negative result and be so incredibly devastated. Breathing in she reminded herself it wasn't the end…it was the beginning. Now they were both on the same page. Looking at Grissom, knowing what almost happened and seeing how much he loved her, any doubts she ever had were gone…she wanted a baby with him and soon wasn't soon enough.

His emotions getting the best of him again, Grissom sadly said. "During this study I've been focusing on whether or not I was strong enough to be a father and have a child with you. I never thought to ask myself if I was strong enough to survive losing a child." His voice cracked. "After today I know I'm not strong enough to lose you. I don't think I can do it, Sara. I really don't think I can take the risk." As in the past, self-preservation kicked in and the fear of loss overpowered him and prevented him from moving ahead. Old fears never really go away, he realized, they hide waiting to pounce in a weak moment. "I'm sorry."

Listening to him talk, she realized they had traded places. She was certain and he was scared. "Could we let some time pass and see?" She asked in a hopeful tone. "Right now I think we're a little too emotional to make a decision."

In a weak voice, he asked, "You want to keep the study going?"

"Yes." She replied confidently while bringing his hand to her heart. "Can you do that for me?"

Overcoming the urge to say no, he forced an affirmative answer for her. "Yes. I'll give it some time."

* * *

Next Chapter: The Patter of Little Feet – Part 1 


	6. The Patter of Little Feet Part 1

**Feasibility Study**

**Chapter 6:** **The Patter of Little Feet – Part 1  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

**July 21, 2005 (Day 90)  
****Grissom's Office  
****2:04 a.m. **

Proud as a peacock Greg strutted into Grissom's office. When he reached his boss's desk he cryptically said, "Guess what I have?"

Grissom rolled away in his chair. "Is it contagious?"

"No it's outrageous!" Pulling his firearm certification from his shirt pocket, he slapped it on Grissom's desk. "I not only passed, I passed with _flying c_olors."

Grinning, Grissom picked up the certificate. "As far as I'm concerned you passed the test on Dales Trail nine days ago but it's good to have it in writing."

"You're counting the days since…"

"Celebrating them actually." Grissom moved out from behind his desk. "And we should celebrate your certification. Let's go."

"Cool!" Greg rubbed his hands together and followed Grissom out the door. "When I got my driver's license my dad took me out for steak and gave me a box of condoms. You know…a right of passage thing."

"I'm taking you to a strip club." He replied matter of factly.

"Really?" Greg nervously glanced up and down the hallway. "Will uh…Sara have a problem with this? Should I keep it hush-hush? Or uh…are you guys like into the lifestyle?"

Grissom paused in the hallway. "We're going to the strip club to work a case, Greg. A tourist was found dead in his hotel room with a matchbook from the club in his pocket. We need to check it out."

"Oh." He nodded. "That makes more sense."

"Yeah." Grissom laughed as he restarted down the hall. "However, I could have taken anybody but I chose you and I promise you'll get to do all the DNA swabbing."

Grinning, Greg hurried to catch up. "So you _are_ taking me out for a treat!"

**July 21, 2005 (Day 90)  
****Break Room  
****2:16 a.m. **

Alone in the room with Sara, Catherine curiously watched her fill a mug with coffee. "Gave up on your new health regiment, huh?"

"For a little while." She blandly replied while pouring in two packets of sugar. Although she was starting to think it might be permanent. In the past nine days the only remotely baby-related discussion was in bed earlier this evening when Grissom said, _uh-oh last one in the box, I'll have to go shopping again_.

"Did you have a false alarm?"

Glancing over at Catherine, Sara knew there was no point in hiding it. "Yeah."

"Lighten up." She patted Sara on the back. "It only works the first time when you're sixteen and in the back seat of a car."

Sara laughed to herself…apparently it doesn't work if you're in the back seat of a car _pretending_ to be sixteen. Actually it was simple biology that didn't allow it to happen. As Grissom had predicted in San Francisco, after taking the pill for so long, her cycle hadn't jump started yet. All that moodiness in the week preceding the attack on Dales Trail was PMS not pregnancy hormones and a day after the negative pregnancy test result Aunt Flo dropped by for a quick visit for the first time in six months.

Unable to contain her curiosity, Catherine pried, "I thought you were still in the reconnaissance stage and weren't even trying." Once again she read Sara's eyes. "Ah…you weren't trying." A smile exploded on her face. "It was the scarlet dress. Things got out of hand. Good girl!"

Taking her caffeinated beverage with her to the couch, Sara asked, "Have you ever considered opening a booth on the strip and charging money for your psychic ability?"

Catherine joined her. "So what happened? Did the pregnancy scare frighten him a little too much?"

"That's not what scared him." Knowing _the sister rule_ was in effect and Catherine wouldn't say anything to Grissom, she unloaded her burden. "It was the attack in the desert. He's afraid if I get pregnant, something will happen to me and he'll lose twice and loss isn't something he handles well. The irony is, until the attack in the desert I was the one who wasn't sure. But after fighting to protect the baby I thought I was carrying, a near-death experience and seeing how much Grissom loves me…I want it so much."

"This is an easy thing to solve."

Eyeing her suspiciously, Sara informed Catherine. "I'm not going to put on a dress and seduce him if that's what you have in mind. It has to be mutual, not a trick."

"No tricks." She chuckled. "Well not that kind of trick anyway…a mind trick."

"Go on."

"You see, it's the same pattern he was in with you. All he saw was the potential for disaster and it blocked him from taking a risk. You need to show him the positives and encourage him that the risk is worth it."

Sighing, she reminded Catherine of the cold hard facts. "It took almost five years to get him to take that risk. His forty-ninth birthday is less than a month away. We don't have that kind of time."

Rolling her eyes she scolded, "Then don't pussyfoot around like you did for years when you were trying to get him to commit. This time, _bombard_ him with a full-scale assault. _Create _opportunities and make sure you work in some visuals because remember…."

"I know I know…men are visual creatures."

Catherine groaned. "If you had worn that scarlet dress five years ago you'd have a kid in preschool by now."

**Tweeters Lounge  
****2:29 a.m. **

"Tweeters?" Grissom questioned as they entered the newest strip club in town.

"I think it's supposed to be a take-off on Hooters." Greg replied as he got his first glimpse of a topless dancer. "Oh yeah…it's a take-off for sure." Enjoying the eye candy he sighed. "Have I told you how happy I am that I got to keep my CSI job? You don't see this kind of action in the DNA lab."

Still baffled by the club's name, Grissom shook his head. "A tweet is the delicate song of a dainty bird. Other than some creative uses of feathers I don't get the correlation."

"Oh…I do. They're singing to me." Greg's pupils expanded as he surveyed the lush environment…the girls swinging on forest branches and dancing around poles disguised as tree trunks…all of them shaking their tail feathers to the tune of _Don't You Want Me Greggy_? "I know you're an Entomologist and not an Ornithologist but come on…tell me you hear their sweet little birdsong."

"I hear it." He retorted. "It's just not ruffling my feathers." Amused by Greg's trance-like expression, he asked, "You ever read The Odyssey, Greg?"

"I know where you're going with this so I'll cut to the chase." His salacious smile spread. "I'm willing to let any one of these sirens turn me into swine." Having a problem keeping his feather in an unruffled state, Greg untucked his pink dress shirt and looked to his mentor for advice. "Why is it that you can stand here and be unaffected while I'm twisting in this woodland wind? Wait…I know…consummate professionalism."

"Could be." Grissom continued to stroll through the club toward the manager's office. "Or maybe, unlike you, I didn't show up for work _pent up_."

"Ah ha! So it's not professionalism." Greg snickered. "The boss got some pre-shift action."

Grinning, Grissom didn't cop to anything.

Feeling the need to defend his horny state, Greg explained. "Well you have to remember, I was injured. I've been grounded from flight for over a week! We're talking serious DSB."

Grissom kept walking…until a bouncy bird swooped in blocking his path.

"Look who's here." The bare-chested buxom blonde, wearing only sparkly stilettos and a thong made out of glittery gold feathers, exclaimed as she seductively leaned against the bar. "Gil Grissom, I remember you…platinum credit card…very generous tipper. How long has it been? A month?" As she giggled gold glitter flew off her body. "Watch any new movies lately?"

"Tawny?" Grissom guessed, although she looked quitea bit different out of her Cheesecake Factory uniform. "I thought you said you dance at Club Paradise?"

Certain he stepped into the Twilight Zone, Greg watched the intriguing interaction.

"Don't play coy." Her bronzed lips curved upward. "You went to Club Paradise looking for me and one of the girls told you I started working here. What's it gonna be? Big spender like you I'm thinking VIP room."

Grissom found the misunderstanding amusing. "Uh…"

Lunging forward she pressed up against him, whispering, "Or do you want to meet off site later for something a little more? I remember that Bvlgari jewelry bag. You want to be my Sugar Daddy? I'll be your Pretty Woman. I'm sure I'll be sweeter than that scrawny strawberry blonde you were with the last time I saw you."

"Um…" Greg wasn't sure if he should if he should negotiate a pay raise or pop Grissom square in the jaw for disrespecting Sara. "I really wish I didn't hear that."

Grissom grabbed Tawny's hands. "I'm afraid you really have the wrong idea."

"Hey!" The brawny bouncer snapped. "Hands to yourself! If I have to tell you again you'll be waking up on the sidewalk."

That's when Grissom realized his ID was still hidden under his jacket. Pulling it out, he showed it to the bouncer. "Actually we're here on behalf of the LVPD crime lab. We have an appointment with Mr. Nolan, the club manager."

**Arizona Charlie's Hotel Casino  
****Sourdough Café  
****4:59 a.m. **

Greg polished off his last piece of steak and relaxed in his seat. "That was great."

On the way back from Tweeters, since they didn't have a break yet, Grissom suggested they stop to eat something before they continued to their next investigation destination. Playing off Greg's comment about his dad taking him out for steak after receiving his driver's license, Grissom suggested this place.

"Best three dollar steak and eggs in town." Grissom announced as he finished his orange juice.

Setting his fork down, Greg said, "So Gris…oh…is it okay if I call you Gris like Nick and Warrick do?"

Smiling, Grissom replied, "You saved Sara's life…there are very few things I won't let you call me."

Pleased with the response, Greg forged on with his question. "So Gris…how did you know those lines would work with Tawny?"

At Tweeters, when they were alone in the manager's office, Grissom told Greg that he met when out to lunch with Catherine. Clarifying it was a completely innocent meeting and Tawny was his waitress nothing more. Then, considering Greg's attraction to the stripper and his dire need for company, Grissom advised that once their business was done, if Greg wanted to strike up a conversation with her he could as long as made it quick, didn't touch her or give her money. Lastly he advised that if he wanted to get lucky he should say…_My ex-girlfriend was a stripper. I loved her something awful but she dumped me because I liked watching romantic movies. I thought my generous trust fund would have been enough to keep her around but I guess money doesn't matter to some women. Gosh, I'm so lonely. _

"How did I know those lines would work? Cosi fan tutte…they're all the same, Greg." He chuckled. "Except for the special ones of course. But I don't think you're in the market for a special one just yet."

Greg couldn't have agreed more. "The best thing about dating a stripper is she keeps the same hours as me. Well…it's not the best thing," He snickered. "But it's convenient."

The waitress approached the table. "Anything else I can get for you?" She shifted on her feet caressing her bulging belly. "I hope the service was good enough for you this morning. This baby is starting to slow me down."

"It was fine." Grissom sweetly replied while handing her a twenty. "Keep the change."

Warmly she smiled while accepting the generous tip. "Thanks."

Looking at the waitress's stomach as she walked away, Grissom remembered he needed to do some shopping. "I need to run into that Walgreens on the corner real quick."

"Me too actually." Greg followed Grissom out of the restaurant.

Once inside the store, Greg paused to check out his hair in the cosmetic section. "Do you think my hair looks odd with that bald patch in the back from my stitches?"

"I always think you hair looks odd, Greg. Not to mention your clothes. You're going to have to tone it down if you ever have to testify in court for a case." As they walked through the store Grissom said, "Today for example…a pink shirt and a purple jacket?"

"My jacket is eggplant." Greg corrected as he walked down the aisle with Grissom.

"Are you following me?"

"No. You're just going in the same direction I'm going."

"What are you here to buy?" Grissom asked as he stopped in front of the prophylactic section. The last thing he wanted was an audience.

"Military supplies."

"Military supplies?" Grissom reminded Greg of their locale. "This is Walgreens I think you'll have better luck at the army surplus store on Industrial."

"You know…military supplies." Greg saluted. "Always wear a helmet soldier." He pointed to a box that had that saying plastered across it. "I have a date with a stripper. I need to stock up." Smiling he asked, "What are you here to buy?"

Ignoring the question, he snipped, "Just get what you need and wait in the truck. I'll be right behind you."

"Okay." Reaching over Greg confidently pulled a box of Magnum XXL from the shelf.

"You wish."

Laughing, Greg returned the box to the shelf. "I certainly hope that was a guess and not because you've checked me out at the urinal. Anyway…I'm not selfish…I prefer to pick based on what I think the lady would like…different strokes for different folks."

"Oh really." Grissom folded his arms waiting for Greg to get on with it.

"Like I was dating this girl who painted murals for a living…very artistic." He pointed to a box. "Durex Colors and Scents was the way to go." Continuing his trip down memory lane he said, "And then there was the court reporter I met during the Rodgers trial…she was very serious so Lifestyles Classic collection."

"How very enlightening but why do you think I care?"

Enjoying the buddy moment, Greg said, "You don't only think of yourself, do you? You have to think of her too. When I was hot for Sara I always imagined using…" He was certain that the words had stayed in his head then he saw Grissom's stunned expression and realized they must have actually come out of his mouth. "I…uh…" A nervous laugh followed. "Hey…that was a long time ago and you knew that…everybody did. It's kind of funny isn't it? Although you're not laughing so…hey…now though…now I think of her as a sister…actually…it's almost a motherly vibe I get from her now."

Grissom continued staring. "You ever read Oedipus Rex, Greg?"

The sound of light footsteps approaching halted the conversation.

Grissom and Greg turned and saw two impeccably dressed men, obviously winding down from a long night out on the town, staring at them.

The older of the two, wearing a fitted black Gucci suit and lilac silk shirt remarked, "We noticed the two of you in a heated discussion." Focusing on Grissom he smiled. "Why not let the boy choose for once or better yet, get the variety pack. It works for us."

The much younger man in a sheer Versace t-shirt smiled. "Is variety something that interests you or are you an exclusive couple? Because if you're interested…"

"Excuse me?" Grissom asked in a lost tone.

The younger man reached out and felt Greg's pink satin shirt. "I love this. Where did you get it? Or did he buy it for you?"

Greg, having gone to school in San Francisco, kindly filled in the blanks for his befuddled boss. "They want to know if we're interested in partying. They uh…they think I'm your boy toy and you're my Sugar Daddy."

Staring at him, Grissom said, "Sugar Daddy is _definitely_ one of the things I won't let you call me, Greg." Then he turned to the men to politely decline. "Thanks but we're not interested. I live with a woman and he's dating a female stripper. We're not together."

The older gentleman smiled. "Honest mistake. You two make a _fabulous _couple."

**Crime Lab  
****7:59 a.m. **

In the locker room grabbing her purse, Sara heard her cell phone ring and pulled it out of her pocket. "Hey Carrie." The noise coming through the receiver startled her. "What's going on? Where are you?"

"I'm at my sister's. Wendy and Paul went to Monterey to celebrate their wedding anniversary and I'm watching the kids for three days."

"You sound frazzled." Shutting her locker, she walked out of the room.

"I'm losing my mind! And to make things worse I just landed this huge case and I'm trying to prep. Nick is swamped at work so he's no help. That's why I called. I'm not able to meet for lunch like we planned. I forgot I was babysitting when I asked you the other day."

Walking out of the building, Sara said, "No problem. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

"How about taking a couple of these kids off my hands!"

While laughing at Carrie's comment, Sara recalled Catherine's words…_you need to show him the positives…create opportunities…work in some visuals_. "Hey if you need help I wouldn't mind taking Sean. I'm sure he'd love hanging out with Grissom. Oh and since I know how much you hate smells…I'll take Ashley too. Grissom and I have the night off so we don't have to worry about catching sleep and our schedules are clear. I'm on my way home right now."

"Really! Would you! That would be fantastic!"

"I'd love too." Sara grinned wildly. "It's no problem."

"I'll bring them by around ten that way you have time to unwind after work. If you could keep them until eight then Nick will be home from work and I'll be able to manage."

"Great. See you then."

**Sidle-Grissom House  
****9:15 a.m. **

Sara fresh out of the shower wearing her favorite pink cashmere robe, was drying her hair and didn't hear Grissom enter the bathroom.

"I'm home," He said over the noise of the blow dryer, hoping not to startle her. Since the attack in the desert she was a little jumpy.

"Hi!" Shutting off the blow dryer she grinned. "How was your shift? I never saw you after the first ten minutes."

The encounter at Walgreens still on his always curious mind, he casually asked, "Would Greg and I be a fabulous gay couple? Have you ever thought that?"

"Um…" Setting the blow dryer on the bathroom counter she warily replied, "I can um…honestly say the thought never crossed my mind. Is there um…something you want to tell me, honey?"

The look on her face told him the phrasing and content of the question threw her. "It wasn't me who thought it!"

"Greg did!" Her shock continued to grow.

"No!" Grissom shook his head. "Let me contextualize for you. Greg and I went to Walgreens to buy condoms and while we were standing there talking, these two guys came over and assumed we were a couple and propositioned us."

"Okay now it makes sense." As she pictured the scene in her head her body shook with laughter. "The part about the two guys assuming you were a gay couple because you were standing in front of the condoms talking with Greg wearing that ridiculous shiny pink shirt, _not _the part about you shopping for condoms _with _Greg…that seems a little out of character."

"He followed me into the store!"

Near hysterics, she squeaked, "I really wish I didn't have this idea of you and Greg as a couple in my head."

Taking Sara's hand he guided her out of the bathroom towards the bed. "Then I'll have to make you forget it."

"I think it's going to take a lot of effort." She slyly countered.

When Grissom landed on top of her on the bed specks of gold glitter showered down on Sara. "Why do you have glitter on your jacket?"

"Oh…it's from a stripper," He answered factually while kissing Sara's neck.

"You didn't mention there was a stripper at Walgreens." Tossing him off her she stared gape mouthed. "Exactly what kind of night did you and Greg have together? I know you told me you wanted to thank him for saving my life but…condom shopping and strippers?"

Chuckling he explained, "We went to the strip club following a lead from the 419 suspicious circs at the Flamingo. I didn't have my ID out and one of the strippers thought I was looking for a lap dance."

Sara grinned. "So in one night you got propositioned by a gay man _and_ a stripper."

Throwing up his hands, he exclaimed, "Viva Las Vegas, baby."

Back in the mood, she unzipped his jacket. "I don't think you should go out with Greg anymore."

"Greg's going out with the stripper." He informed her while tossing his jacket to the floor. "Well…going _out_ is probably an incorrect assumption."

"Now things are starting to sound normal again." Popping open his shirt buttons she asked, "Honey, you threw your jacket on the floor without removing your Walgreens purchase."

"Oh." Falling back on the bed he sighed. "After the proposition, we left the store without buying anything."

"Oh."

Next to each other they stared at the ceiling.

After a minute Sara said, "You want to talk about it? We haven't talked about it since…" When she didn't get a response she prattled on optimistically. "Did you know statistics show the odds of a CSI getting attacked at a crime scene twice in her lifetime are very, very low. It's very unlikely. And the odds of something like that happening in a specific nine month window…not that I would even be in the field for the whole time…"

"Sara." Sitting up he said, "I can't talk about it yet."

Sitting up next to him, she kissed his cheek. "Conversation over." Of course she knew 'yet' could mean _years_ just like 'I don't know what to do about this' took years when she asked him once. Standing up she smiled. "Anyway…we don't have time to stay in bed. I just remembered…we have company coming in a half hour. So why don't you hit the shower and get ready."

"Company?" They never had people over. "Who?" He couldn't imagine.

"Wendy and Paul Blake are away on an anniversary trip and Carrie is watching the four kids. She called earlier completely frazzled because she has to prep for a big case and it's impossible with all the kids so I offered to help her out by watching Ashley and Sean over here." Smiling sweeter she said, "I hope you don't mind. We didn't have anything planned and I thought Sean would get a kick out of your bugs and books. I thought you could keep him busy while I'll take care of Ashley."

"Uh…I wasn't expecting…" It was highly odd it was nice to see Sara and Carrie becoming close friends. "I don't mind. I'm sure I can keep Sean occupied." Remembering the eye-poke incident he teased, "Did you bring home protective eyewear from the lab so you don't get another scratch on the cornea?"

"I'll know what to expect this time so I be on the defensive." Returning to the bathroom to finish getting ready, she smirked. The plan was in motion….

* * *


	7. The Patter of Little Feet Part 2

**Feasibility Study**

**Chapter 7:** **The Patter of Little Feet – Part 2  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

**July 21, 2005 (Day 90)  
****Sidle-Grissom House  
****9:56 a.m. **

Walking down the hall, Grissom recognized a distinctive soothing aroma floating through the air. Tilting his head, he followed the scent until soon he was standing in the kitchen. "Are you baking something?" He asked in a tone of disbelief. "It smells like…"

"Oatmeal cookies. Just pulled them out of the oven." Sara replied as sweet as the brown sugar coating her apron. "Do they smell good?" While it's true that men are visual creatures, being a scientist she knew that smell triggers the most powerful memories of all the senses. So why not stack the deck and engage the appropriate olfactory response prior to bombarding the man with familial imagery?

Inhaling deeply he was transported back in time. "Actually they smell just like the ones my mother used to make."

"Really?" Sara nonchalantly went about her business of returning items to the fridge. "I didn't even know you liked oatmeal cookies." As she stuffed a stick of butter into the proper compartment she continued her train of thought silently. Oh wait…_maybe_ I did know you liked oatmeal cookies. I could be wrong but once about four years ago Doc's wife baked some for the team and you _may_ have said something _vague _like 'wow these oatmeal cookies are fantastic! I always loved them fresh out of the oven when I was a kid!' To herself she snickered…who am I kidding, if I was a superhero my special power would be memory but you already know that because one time three years ago when we were working a case at the Mirage you said….'you never forget anything do you?'

"The cookies taste fantastic." Which surprised him since she had never baked anything from scratch as far as he knew. "I didn't even know we had the ingredients to make oatmeal cookies."

"I went shopping on the way home from work." Breezing through the kitchen with an air of Betty Crocker bliss, she explained, "I wanted to have food for our guests. I remembered seeing oatmeal cookies at Wendy's so I knew Sean would like them." It wasn't a lie…it just wasn't her primary motivation.

"How did you know what to buy?"

"What!" Planting her hands on her hips, she rolled her eyes. "I have a Ph.D, an IQ of 146 and I'm a CSI. Don't you think I'm smart enough to figure out that oatmeal cookies contain oatmeal without using the Trace lab?"

He always loved her feisty and couldn't restrain his smile.

"And believe it or not, I successfully tracked down the oatmeal in the grocery store, lifted the container off the shelf, read the recipe on the back and collected the items I needed. Who knows, maybe tomorrow I'll try and tie my own shoes."

"I'm sorry." Grinning he leaned against the kitchen island. "I should know better. Once you study and apply yourself, you can handle anything."

"Damn straight." Walking around the island she flipped her scowl into a smile. "Look at you…you're all ready to play in the dirt."

After his shower he tossed on a black t-shirt, old jeans and sneakers. "And you're ready to do battle with…what did you call her? The demon disguised as a baby?" He said while tugging her hair which she had up in an intricate twist. "Her talons won't be able to reach this." Checking out the rest of her appearance he asked, "And the jeans and tight red cotton shirt?"

"Unlike my destroyed silk shirt, these clothes are machine washable if they get coated in sticky goo. The tightness of the shirt however…is for you."

"Thank you." He dotted her lips with a kiss. "I did notice something else about your appearance…your lack of shoes in the kitchen."

"Oh." Glancing down she looked at her bare feet, wiggling her red painted toes. "I was in a hurry to make the cookies and didn't have time."

"Hmm." He eyed her suspiciously.

Since he playfully initiated the topic she felt it was okay to continue on the same path. "You don't think I would intentionally go barefoot in the kitchen in a shameless attempt to use pre-feminist imagery to subliminally send you a message, do you?"

Raising his brow he countered her point. "Freud said there are no accidents."

"Honey, Freud would have a field day with our relationship…denial, suppression, repression, displacement." Patting his shoulder she asked, "Do you really want to bring him into the equation?"

The ring of the doorbell signaled their guests had arrived.

"Our kids are here," She announced with a wink.

Grissom followed her down the hall watching the bounce in her step and piecing together the evidence thus far… oatmeal cookies, bare feet, borrowed children…cinnamon wasn't the only thing he sniffed in the air, he smelled a trap.

"Hi there," Sara enthusiastically greeted Carrie, Sean and Ashley. "I've been looking forward to your visit all morning."

Carrie walked in holding Ashley and Sean followed. "Wow, Sara." Carrie exclaimed, "This is a great house."

"Thank you."

"Hello, Carrie," Grissom greeted before turning to the boy. "And how are you, Sean? Read any of those books I loaned you?"

Beaming he replied, "I finished all but one."

"Wow." Grissom was once again impressed with the young man. "I'll have to pull some more for you to take home with you."

Sara was counting on Sean to be her sure thing and thirty seconds into the visit he was off to a great start.

"Sara…why don't you take Ashley while the guys help me carry in the supplies."

"Supplies?" Sara asked as she cautiously accepted the wild child into her arms.

"Oh yeah." Carrie motioned for Grissom and Sean to follow her. "This kid comes with a ton…high chair, diaper bag, car seat, toys, pack n' play…you'll see."

Alone in the entryway with Ashley, Sara said, "Can we cut a deal? You make me look like a fantastic potential mom and I'll buy you awesome birthday presents every year for the rest of your life. What do you say?"

Ashley babbled and readied her index finger for a poke.

"Oh no…that's not going to work twice." Sara gently took the girl's tiny hand in hers. "And, if you notice, my hair is up so you'll have to find more creative ways to torture me."

A minute later, the three pack mules returned. "You weren't kidding when you said she came with a ton of stuff."

Grissom said, "Sean lets bring all of this into the living room. This way."

Carrie set the diaper bag down. "And a ton of instructions." Pulling out a binder, she handed it to Sara. "Wendy wrote this up for me so if you have any questions you'll find it in here. The most important thing to remember is she doesn't walk yet but she can crawl at light speed and she can pull herself up and reach stuff so you'll want to watch her at all times."

"Got it." She bounced Ashley in her arms. "Don't worry."

"I hate to drop and run but I have a neighbor watching Ryan and McKenna and I told her I'd be right back. Any questions, call my cell." Smiling brightly, she added, "Thanks so much for bailing me out. I owe you big. Bye."

"Bye." With her borrowed baby in her hands, Sara shut the front door. "Okay…we have ten hours to accomplish what would normally take Grissom years to do…get past a mental block. Let's go girlfriend. I don't want to jinx it but you're being awfully calm. Did you have time to process that birthday present bribe I mentioned?"

Sara breezed into the living room. "Hey I can handle all this stuff. Why don't the two of you go have some fun? Sean…do you want to see Mr. Grissom's bug collection? He's got live ones, dead ones, plastic ones…you name it."

"I've been counting the minutes," Sean anxiously replied.

Stopping next to Grissom, she kissed his cheek. "Have fun showing off. I'll call you when lunch is ready."

"You're making lunch too?"

She shot him a warning glance.

"Let's go, Sean." Grissom pointed the way. "Ever see a cockroach race? I'm training a new batch of Madagascars for an Entomology conference I'm attending next week and you can help me train them. After the race you can feed them rotten fruit."

"Gromphadorhina portentosa! Awesome!"

"First we'll have to paint race numbers on their backs with white-out..."

When the guys disappeared down the hall, Sara looked at Ashley. "Hmm…I'm starting to wonder if your mom knew Grissom approximately eleven years ago." Setting her down on the floor, she handed her a toy from the bag. "You play with this while I set up your portable bed."

Slipping the equipment out of the bag, Sara got to work. "This sounds easy enough," she remarked after reading the instructions. Lifting one side, she easily snapped it in place but when she went to snap the opposite side the other side collapsed. "Okay…what am I doing wrong here? You tell me, Ashley." On the floor the toy was there but the child was no where in sight. "Ashley?" She jumped to her feet. "I only looked away for a minute where could you be?"

Frantically she ran around the room calling in a loud whisper. "Ashley?" Then she saw a metal stool at the kitchen island falling over like timber. "No!" Racing over she found the child on the floor giggling as she watching the stool crash to the ground.

Relieved, Sara righted the stool and scooped up the troublemaker, nuzzling her in her arms. "Let's not do that again."

Grissom hurried into the room. "What was that crash?"

"What crash?" Sara feigned ignorance as she cuddled Ashley. "Sweetie, you're hearing is so good now I think you can pick up on things from the next house."

"I could have sworn…" He shrugged and returned to the bug room.

"Close call." She set Ashley on the kitchen island, holding her in place. "Want a cookie?" Reaching over she grabbed two and took the cookies and Ashley back to the living area. "Now you sit there and eat while I finish this."

Once again she attempted to snap together the portable bed all the while keeping one eye on Ashley. "What's that sound? Kind of sounds like scampering on the hard wood floor but you're not moving Ashley." When she stepped forward she heard another sound…a crunch which was immediately followed by the sensation of cockroach guts oozing out under her barefoot. "No! Ugh!" Lifting her foot she saw the splattered remains. "Karma! I don't put on shoes in the kitchen and now I have roach remains on my foot." Then it hit her…I killed one of Grissom's kids. Way to go mother of the year!

Grissom returned to the living room once more. "Sara we seem to have lost track of numbers five and six. Keep your eyes peeled. Especially for number six, he's my best racer."

"Will do." She smiled. When he left she lifted her foot. "Let's hope you're number five." Turning to Ashley she announced, "Let's go to the bathroom and…oh no…not again. She's gone!"

Like any good CSI with a dead roach plastered to her foot, she hopped along, following the evidence…a trail of cookie crumbs promptly led her to the child feverishly crawling down the hall. "Come back here!"

**1:02 p.m. **

The last two hours felt like two days to Sara but finally she was getting the hang of mothering…she had Ashley confined to her high chair with a pile full of cookies.

"It says in your operating manual that you take a nap at one-thirty and usually sleep for three hours. After I finish making lunch I'll take another stab at putting together that contraption together so you can sleep."

Walking over to the fridge, Sara pulled out a half-gallon of milk.

Before she could call them in for lunch, Grissom and Sean appeared in the kitchen.

"I was just going to call you." Sara smiled. "Lunch is ready." Proudly she placed two plates on the counter…peanut butter and jelly with the crusts cut off.

"This looks great, Honey." Grissom picked up the white bread square and sniffed it. "Smells good too. When did you learn to cook this?"

"Very funny." She slapped two glasses of milk on the counter. "Carrie said this was Sean's favorite lunch."

"It's my favorite lunch when my Aunt Carrie is in charge because her cooking scares me." Sean bit into the sandwich.

"I'm going to put Ashley's bed together for her nap." Leaving the kitchen she walked in to the living area.

From the counter Grissom watched her struggle while munching on his sandwich. "You need some help with that, Honey? Because every time I've come out here you've been struggling to put that thing together."

"No." Damn…if only I studied mechanical engineering instead of physics. "I've got it."

Sean, his one vice being impatience, jumped off his stool and bounded over to Sara. "You do it like this." In two easy moves he had it snapped together. He proceeded to place the baby's blanket and favorite sleeping toy in the bed. "You know you shouldn't be afraid to ask for help when you need it."

"Thank you." Blowing a strand of hair off her face, she smiled. "I'll try to remember that." Okay Sean… making me look incompetent was _not _part of the plan but you're an asset in every other way so I'll put up with it.

Grissom smugly set down his glass of milk. "And a little child shall lead…"

"Very funny." Shaking off her failure at baby equipment assembly, Sara asked, "So now that you've run the roaches through their paces, what are you boys going to do after lunch?"

"Sean's in luck." Grissom tossed his napkin on his empty plate. "There's a decaying pigeon in the backyard and it's ripe with maggots. When he finishes his sandwich we'll glove up and check it out."

"This is the best day ever!" Sean raced over to the counter to polish off his lunch.

"Sounds fun." Turning on her maternal charm, Sara plucked Ashley from her highchair. "According to your instruction manual, it's time to change your diaper and put you down for a nap." Kissing the top of her head, she said, "I remember your favorite song too…Twinkle Twinkle."

Grissom sat back and analyzed the scene. She was trying so hard…forcing it at times but the harder she tried the more he loved her. It always amazed him that he could love her more than he already did. Then he remembered almost losing her nine days ago and a chill swept through him. The loss would have been unbearable.

Snuggling the sleepy child, Sara sat on the couch and began her song. "Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are." And then thanks to a quick google search earlier this morning, she was able to sing the rest of the song. "How I wonder what you are. Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky, twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are."

From across the room she caught Grissom's eye and wondered what he was thinking. Was the visual working? Studying his eyes, she knew exactly what was going on inside him…a battle of wills. She'd seen it before.

The more he watched her with baby, the more conflicted he grew. On one hand he wanted it more than ever but at the same time the fear grew. It was a familiar feeling, one that he experienced many times when he wanted to start a relationship with her.

"All done!" Sean declared as he placed his empty milk glass on the counter. "Maggot time!"

Thankful for the reprieve from his muddled thoughts, Grissom slid off the chair. "Right this way."

Sighing, Sara looked down at Ashley. She was sound asleep. "Hey…I did something right," Sara mused. "And no one helped me." Tired herself, she was quickly lulled by the baby's rhythmic breathing. Kicking her legs up on the couch she snuggled closer. "I'll just rest my eyes with you for a few minutes."

**2:34 p.m**.

Sitting on the grass under a shade tree with several specimen jars full of insects, Sean glowed with excitement. "Mr. Grissom, did your dad teach you how to collect bugs?"

"No." Taking a seat next to Sean, he said, "I taught myself about bugs at first and then of course later I went to college and learned more."

"Oh…was your dad into sports like my dad?" Sean watched the beetles in the jar while he spoke. "I mean my dad does fun science stuff with me but I always know he'd rather be tossing a football. Is that what your dad was like?"

"Actually, my parents got divorced when I was six and after that I didn't see my father very much after that." The truth was he didn't see him since he was eight but that reality seemed a little harsh to tell the boy. "We never did much together."

Sean picked up the next jar and studied it "Then how did you learn to act like such a great dad?"

The question threw him. "You think I'd be a good father?"

"Are you kidding?" He picked up the third jar. "You would be great! Why don't you have kids?" Then he realized his faux-pas. "Sorry. My mom told me you're not supposed to ask that question because last year when we were visiting my Aunt Lisa I asked why she didn't have any kids and it made her cry. My mom told me some people can't have them and it makes them sad. But we found out last week that Aunt Lisa and Uncle Steven are going to bring one home from China soon."

"Actually…we haven't decided yet if we're going to have any children." Glancing back toward the house, Grissom considered another possibility for the first time. Would not having a child eventually wear Sara down like not having a relationship did? Would there come a time when she'd say she couldn't wait for a decision? What if my answer is no? Would that drive a wedge between us? Could my fear once again ruin everything? Suddenly he had to see her. "Sean…it's pretty hot out here. Why don't we take the bugs inside, get something cold to drink, snatch some cookies then head to the library to identify the bugs we've found."

"Okay." Jumping up, he clutched the plastic jars in his arms. "I know one of the beetles already."

After walking through the back door, he instructed Sean to grab two water bottles from the fridge while he went into the living room. On the couch he saw Ashley peacefully sleeping in Sara's arms. For the first time it didn't look awkward, it looked right…perfect…and the moment overwhelmed him.

For decades, every day when he came home there was no one there to accompany him or greet him when he arrived. Then the relationship with Sara began and everything changed. Some days after work they went to her apartment, some days they went to his townhouse. Once the relationship became physical they took turns sleeping at each other's places.

Then one day Sara had to go to Berkeley to work with her advisor for a couple of days and for the first time in many months Grissom experienced his old reality…no one there at the end of a day...no one sharing his space…no one to touch. It was only then that he realized how much he had gained and solitude never seemed truly unbearable until he tasted something more.

Standing over the couch watching Sara's chest rise and fall in time with the baby's he wondered what it would be like to come home at the end of the day to a family.

"Here you go," Sean said as he extended the bottle of Aquafina.

"Thanks." He twisted the cap off and took a sip. "Okay let's go look up those bugs."

**5:41 p.m. **

Stirring from slumber on the couch, Sara stretched her arms above her head. "Oh my god!" She bolted upright. "Where's the baby!"

"Relax, Honey." Grissom sat on the edge of the couch. "She's on the floor playing with Sean. We came out of the library and noticed she was waking up."

"Oh…okay." Her heart rate began slowing as her disappointment escalated. "I really stink at this don't I?"

"It's all new, Sara. Think of all the things you didn't know on your first day as a CSI compared to what you know now. Right?" He kissed her forehead. "But if you'll take over watching Ashley, Sean and I are going to cook dinner."

"Yeah." Sean looked up from his tower of blocks. "We decided we wanted some _real_ food."

Grissom stood up smiling. "Out of the mouths of babes…"

Sliding off the couch she took Sean's place on the floor next to the block tower. "Hey Ashley…I can teach you about gravity. Watch…" With a flick of a finger she tipped over the tower and the blocks fell to the floor.

In the kitchen, Grissom opened the fridge and surveyed the vegetable situation. "Okay so we're going with veggie stir-fry and rice, right? You said your mom uses honey in her recipe?"

"Quarter cup."

"Check the pantry…second shelf."

Sean did as asked. "Found it." He carried it over to the counter.

"So your mom is teaching you how to cook?" Grissom asked as he retrieved a cutting board.

"Yes. Who taught you how to cook?"

"My mom." He handed over a bag of mushrooms and handed out assignments as if he were at a crime scene. "You wash, I'll slice."

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" Sean handed over the first group of cleaned shrooms.

"No." He started slicing. "I'm an only child."

"Sometimes I wish I was." Sean rinsed the next batch. "My house is so loud. It can be really hard to find a quiet place to read. I bet your house was really quiet when you were growing up."

"That it was."

From the living room, Sara watched the two standing side by side working in unison at the sink and smiled. Men weren't the only visual creatures…the imagery was working on her too.

**6:22 p.m. **

There was no denying it…the meal was delicious. Sara raised her glass of iced tea. "Thank you both for the wonderful dinner. You put my PB&J to shame."

The curious ten year old inquired, "Why didn't your mom teach you how to cook, Ms. Sidle?"

"Um…" Tensing, Sara lowered her glass.

Grissom came to her rescue. "Sara's mom was away on business a lot so she didn't cook much."

"Oh." Sean nodded. "Well you make the really good oatmeal cookies. I think they're even better than my mom's but don't tell her I said that."

Staring down Grissom, she said, "You made him say that."

"I did not."

"No, he didn't." Sean quickly corrected her. "They're really good. I wouldn't lie."

Easing back in his chair, Grissom reminded Sara, "The evidence doesn't lie…all the cookies are gone."

Feeling bad for insinuating Sean was dishonest, she explained, "Please forgive me, I'm not used to hearing compliments on my cooking."

"Yeah…Nick told us about your burritos, that's why I suggested us guys cook dinner."

"He told you about the burritos!" Sara vented at Grissom. "What is the statute of limitations on that anyway? You proved it wasn't my fault."

Ashley tossed the last of her carrots onto the table and started to fuss.

"I think she wants to play some more." Sara promptly took her out of her high chair. "You want to fly like an airplane again or bounce?"

"Uh…Ms. Sidle…" Sean began but Grissom stopped him.

"It's okay. Let her try."

"But…" Sean realized it was too late; Ashley had projectiled her dinner all over Sara. "I was trying to tell you that she has acid reflux and can't be bounced for an hour after eating."

"Oh." Sara froze while the rice and carrot vomit slid down her fitted red shirt and jeans. "I'm uh…going to put her down and jump in the shower real quick. Can you uh…watch her, please?" Apparently Ashley did come up with a new torture.

Out of respect the guys waited until Sara left the room to burst out laughing.

**6:50 p.m. **

Hurrying back into the living room, Sara announced, "Okay I'm cleaned up and ready to…" But her words ceased when she saw Grissom in an arm chair reading a science journal and holding Ashley. It was a visual she had never seen before and without warning her eyes began to well. Damn hormones!

Looking over at Sara, Grissom explained, "Carrie didn't pack any children's books so I'm reading this to her. She doesn't seem to mind. Maybe she'll be a scientist too."

On the couch Sean had his head buried in a book. "Good…the family could use another geek. I'm tired of carrying the burden alone."

"Are you okay, Honey?" Grissom asked Sara upon seeing her watery eyes.

"Yeah…um…I got shampoo in my eyes that's all." Breathing deep she forced the emotions down and pushed out a smile. "Here I'll play with her." Unable to handle the visual for another second she snatched Ashley and brought her down to the floor in front of Grissom. "You want to practice standing again?" Facing her towards Grissom she said, "Wee were doing this when you were making dinner."

Enchanted with Sara's smile, he put his journal down and gazed at her holding the baby's fingers helping her up and down.

"Look, no hands." Sara announced as she let go.

Ashley giggled and wobbled for a bit and then lifted her feet taking three steps forward until Grissom caught her in mid-tumble. "Gotcha."

"She walked!" Sara screeched.

"She definitely did." Grissom concurred as he broke into a wide smile. "Developmental biology in action."

That got Sean's attention. "She did! We've been trying to get her to walk for weeks!" Dropping his book he raced over. "See if she'll do it again so I can see."

Sara took Ashley and faced her towards Sean. "Okay just like before. Look no hands!"

For the first time ever, Ashley cooperated for Sara and three steps later Sean caught his baby sister.

"You taught her how to walk!"

Sara looked up at Grissom who was gazing down at her. For at least this one moment, she knew they were on the same page.

**8:04 p.m. **

After loading the last of the baby's things in the car, Nick returned to the house for Ashley and Sean. "So Sara…no eye injuries or hair pulls."

"Nope." She kissed Ashley on the head and gave her to Nick. "We did have vomit though!"

Grissom stood behind Sara with his hand on her shoulders. "And it had nothing to do with Sara's homemade oatmeal cookies."

Nick winked. "Duly noted." Anxious to get to Carrie, he waved goodbye. "You guys have a good night."

"Thanks for visiting, Sean." Sara smiled. The boy didn't let her down.

Grissom nodded. "Enjoy the new books."

"Bye."

They watched them drive away then shut the door.

"So…" Grissom gave her hand a squeeze as they walked toward the living room. "You decided to orchestrate another opera only this time I was an audience member instead of a player."

So much for being stealthy. "That obvious?"

"From the beginning of the first act." He stared her down. "I have a Ph.D, an IQ of 146 and I'm a CSI…don't you think I'm smart enough to figure out a set-up?"

Glancing sideways she gingerly asked, "But did you enjoy the performance?"

He sat down on the couch, waiting for her to join him. "The vomit scene toward the end of the fourth act was an unexpected twist."

"Tell me about it." Plopping down on the couch she faced him. "Are you upset with me for…"

"How could I be?" He took her hand in his. "Your opera was a wonderful comedy with a point. I got the point, Sara."

"And?"

"And this morning I said couldn't talk about it but tonight I can."

Smiling, she closed the gap between them. "We never talk about serious stuff on the couch."

Cupping her face he returned her smile. "I thought it would be safer than the bedroom considering the topic."

Trading words for kisses, they put the conversation on hold.

Until without warning, Sara jumped off the couch screaming. "Oh! OH!"

"What the?" Grissom watched her tear open her jeans. "I said **_talk_,** Sara."

"OH! OH!" She frantically exclaimed while shoving down her pants and kicking them across the floor. "Your missing cockroach crawled up my leg!"

Thrilled to see the painted number on the roach's back he exclaimed, "Number six!" Happily he retrieved his prize racer from Sara's balled up jeans.

Watching him cradle the cockroach in his hand, she laughed. "I'm standing here in a thong and you have your eyes on an insect." Although she was relieved to learn it was sluggish number five she stomped earlier and not speedy number six.

"He's my best shot at winning the race next week!"

"Life as an entomologist's wife I suppose." Lovingly she sighed. "Take care of number six. We'll talk later."

* * *

Next Chapter: I've Got Your Number - Part 1 


	8. I've Got Your Number Part 1

**Feasibility Study**

**Chapter 8:** **I've Got Your Number – Part 1  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

**July 24, 2005 (Day 93)  
****Sidle-Grissom House  
****6:00 p.m. **

Still in her Victoria's Secret violet waffle knit drawstring pajama bottoms and white sleep tank, Sara lounged on the bed watching Grissom, who was clad only in his blue plaid Ralph Lauren pajama bottoms, which she bought him last month. For the last ten minutes he was busy packing his suitcase for the annual North American Forensic Entomology Conference.

"Other than roach racing what do you bug folk do at this shindig?" She curiously inquired.

Standing in front of his closet he randomly selected a couple of button-down shirts. "Lots of presentations, a dinner event…you know the usual conference stuff."

"What are you presenting this year?"

Moving to the dresser he grabbed two handfuls of balled-up black socks. "The first day I'm presenting on the migration behavior of post-feeding blowfly larvae, on the second day, long-term spatial pattern analysis of carrion fauna for locating decomposition sites and the last day a few case studies."

Chuckling she asked, "Mmm…what do they serve for lunch at this conference?"

Tossing his socks at her, he teased, "Fetal pig with maggot garnish. You'd hate it."

One by one she pitched his socks in the open suitcase on the bed. "And who attends?"

Heading back to the closet, he grabbed a jacket. "Bug guys…bug girls…wannabes. It's like high school really…lots of cliques."

"Girl wannabes?" She feigned irritation. "Hmm…maybe I should come along. Listening to you lecture is what attracted me to you. I was one of your wannabes once."

"Once?" He raised a brow as he threw a jacket on top of the suitcase. "As in past tense?"

Grabbing his hand she lured him closer. "Now I don't wannabe you…I just wannabe _with_ you."

"I suppose the packing can wait until after we have a proper send-off." Sliding into bed next to her he said, "We haven't been apart in months."

"I've never been the one left at home."

"It stinks, trust me." He had been alone several times while she was at Berkeley working with her thesis advisor and he found it unnerving.

"Maybe it will be good for us." Her voice turned slightly serious. "Give us time to think about…"

"I promise I'm already thinking about it, Sara." Propping up on his elbow he sighed, "I know we haven't had time to talk."

Placing her hand on the side of his face, she smiled sweetly. "It's been busy at work." She knew that wasn't the real reason. Truthfully he had been stalling. But stalling was better than avoiding so she didn't push.

Work, although hectic, wasn't the real reason and he knew she knew it too. "Thanks for understanding."

"Never a problem." Not wanting their last hour before his trip to be tense, she tapped his lips with her index finger. "Enough talk. Shut up and kiss me...three days worth please. And after that I'll tell you what else I want."

Obeying her command he moved in to kiss her. "Oh…"

"What?" She scrunched her face. "I brushed my teeth!"

"No…" He rolled onto his back. "I still didn't go shopping."

"What?" Sitting up she gawked at him. "Let's review…this issue was my responsibility for seven months…it's been yours for seven weeks. How many times did I drop the ball? None. How many times have you?"

He covered his disappointed expression with his hands and groaned. "Trust me…I'm not happy with me either."

Falling back she let out a laborious sigh. "I'm a hormonal woman in her sexual prime who is making up for years of lost time. I can't keep suffering these kinds of disappointments." Laughter starting to take over she added, "Soon I may not be responsible for what I do to you."

"What day is it?"

"Sunday. Relevance to the topic at hand?"

"No…number of the days since your last…"

"Are you going where I think you're going with this, Mr. Biology?" Turning on her side she narrowed her gaze and did the math. "Day twelve."

Facing her he winced, "That's cutting it close…way too close. It's almost a bulls-eye."

"Nah…it's one day too early." Loving every minute of it, she goaded him. "We're safe. I won't get pregnant."

Laughing he said, "That's a phrase frequently uttered by Catholic girls nine months before they give birth."

Searching his eyes she teased, "Oooh…I can tell you're still thinking about taking the chance. You're asking yourself…do I feel lucky?"

"Actually it's a variant of that question."

Feeling devious, she informed him, "You know what…go on your trip frustrated. It will teach you a lesson and maybe you'll _finally_ remember to go shopping."

"Ouch."

Sliding out of bed she chuckled. "Love hurts, baby."

**Crime Lab  
1****1:13 p.m. PST/12:13 a.m. MST**

Sara and Greg were at the computer doing a missing persons search when her cell phone rang. Checking the number she cracked a perky smile. "I'm going to take this in Grissom's office. You keep searching."

"You got it, sis."

Quickly she crossed the hall, retreating into Grissom's office and shutting the door.

She answered not with a traditional hello but instead opted for, "Still frustrated?"

"Absolutely." He laughed into the receiver.

Sitting in his chair she teased, "Promise me you won't end up another death-by-pay-per-view statistic. You know I've processed at least three of those. It's a humiliating way to go." Changing her voice to a sexy whisper she asked, "What are they showing on skin-TV at the Doubletree?"

"I can't believe you're asking me this."

Actually she couldn't believe it either. "I've never had a _phone_ _relationship_ before but I've seen them in movies and it's always looked quite intriguing."

"Where are you?"

"In your office." She spun around in his chair. "I'm rearranging all your stuff. Does that_ frustrate_ you?"

"Yes!"

"I'm still waiting." She sent a mischievous chuckle through the phone. "What movies are playing?"

"You'd love it actually. They have the Bridget Jones sequel. I thought of you the minute I saw the schedule."

"So you did check!" She burst out laughing.

"It was sitting on top of the welcome packet, Sara." His voice droned through the phone.

Greg knocking at the door grabbed her attention. "Hold on for a minute." She motioned for him to enter. "What?" She purposely left the receiver uncovered. "Can't you see I'm busy trashing the boss's office!"

"It's a brand of orange juice and we're going there."

"The Tropicana." Returning to her phone call she said, "Hey the boss is out of town so Greg and I are heading out to The Trop to party for a few hours."

"I'm presenting first thing in the morning so I'm heading to bed."

Standing up she giggled, "What will you be watching on TV while you're in bed?"

"Good night, Sara." He replied in a laugh.

"Pleasant dreams Honey." Clicking off her phone, she returned it to her belt clip.

Greg snickered, "That sounded a little cheeky."

"You're such a perv, Greg."

**July 25, 2005 (Day 94) **

**Colorado Springs Doubletree Hotel and Conference Center **

**Room 233**

**8:29 a.m. PST/9:29 a.m. MST**

After punching in Sara's number, Grissom cradled his cell phone to his ear while packing up the last of his materials for this morning's ten a.m. presentation.

"Still frustrated?" Sara answered the phone.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He laughed into the receiver. "How was the rest of your shift?"

"Well the boss is gone so after Greg and I returned from the Trop we partied with Catherine and Warrick in the break room for a few hours and then went home early."

Hearing her laughter through the phone only made him miss her more. "What are you doing right now?"

"Baby, I think you're supposed to ask what I'm _wearing _right now."

"Sorry…I'm new at this too." Leaning against a wall he grinned. "So what are you wearing?"

"Wait…you didn't ask me where I am…I think that needs to come first to ensure proper visualization."

Thoroughly amused by the fact that she was being anal-retentive about a spontaneous activity, he chuckled, "Okay where are you?" Then he realized the time. "Wait…don't answer that because I have to be downstairs in ten minutes and stand in front of a room full of people."

"Afraid they might notice your _frustration_?"

"I'm hanging up now, Sara."

"Good luck, Honey."

**Sara's Home Office  
****11:15 a.m. PST/12:15 p.m. MST**

Sitting at the computer, shopping, Sara heard her cell phone ringing in her purse and hurried into the entryway to grab it. The number on the display sent a signal to her smile while answering the call. "Still frustrated?"

"You'd like to believe that wouldn't you."

Returning to her office she asked, "Shouldn't you be at lunch eating fetal pig with maggot garnish?"

"I could be but I'd rather be in my hotel room talking to you."

"Ah…" Grinning, she eased into her desk chair. "So we've established where you are."

"And where are you?"

"I'm at home in my office sitting at my computer." She kicked her legs up on her desk. "What are you wearing?"

"You saw me packing, you know."

"That's a cop out." She laughed into the phone. "But I'll guess black pants and a black button down shirt."

"Correct. Now tell me what you're wearing."

"Guess." She relaxed further back in her chair.

"Pink cashmere bathrobe."

"Wrong." Glancing down at her attire, she purred in to the phone. "I'm wearing one of your blue t-shirts because I miss you."

"It's nice to be missed. What were you doing at the computer when I called?"

"Shopping." Eyeing the monitor she saw the Pottery Barn rug she was in the middle of ordering.

"Which store?"

Deciding Pottery Barn would be a mood killer, she opted to augment the truth. "Victoria's Secret." A memory flashed into her mind. Lowering her voice, she asked, "Do you remember what her secret is, Grissom?"

"Beauty."

Grinning from ear to ear she asked, "And since when were you interested in beauty?"

"Since I met you."

Ecstatic that he remembered the moment, she gushed, "I think this has turned into phone-love."

"I love you, Sara."

Melting from the exchange, she whispered back, "I love you, too."

"Remember how you told me when you went to your OB/Gyn's office you noticed all the pregnant women and all the baby stuff for the first time even though it had to be there when you went for other visits over the years?"

"Yes." She wasn't sure where he was going with this but it sounded promising. "Why?"

"Well I've been coming to entomology conferences and presentations for many years and not until this one did I ever notice how many of these people are married and have families. I guess I blocked it because it didn't pertain to me or maybe I blocked it because it depressed me. I don't know. But now…I hear them talking about it and it's making me..."

Lovingly she asked, "Making you what?"

Silence dominated the conversation for a minute and then Grissom finally replied. "It's making me miss you."

Just like she replaced Pottery Barn with Victoria's Secret, his answer was a cover up. He wasn't ready to risk it yet but he was getting closer. Knowing he was regretting saying as much as he did, she decided to rescue him. "I bet missing me is making you very _frustrated_."

When she heard his sigh of relief through the phone she knew she had his number.

"Yes it is."

"You probably have to get back to your meeting, huh?"

"I do."

"Yeah…you don't want to miss dessert. I hear they're serving Blowfly Pie." His laughter was music to her ears. "Call me later."

"Count on it."

**July 25, 2005 (Day 94)  
****Locker Room  
****9:53 p.m. PST/10:53 p.m. MST**

Catherine, Warrick, Greg and Sara were shedding their exterior possessions for Crime Lab ID badges while shooting the breeze.

"What's this?" Catherine grabbed Sara's hand. "You never wear your ring to work."

"Oh shoot. I can't believe I left it on." Putting it anywhere else would have been risky and since she didn't want it lost or stolen, she had no choice but to keep it on her finger.

Catherine grinned. "Subconsciously you didn't take it off because you miss him."

"Speaking of taking it off." Greg shut his locker. "Are you going to hole up in Grissom's office and frolic on the phone with him again like you did last night?"

"Whoa whoa." Warrick leaned against a locker. "On company time?"

Catherine started the line. "While the boss is away…"

"…on the phone he will play." And Greg finished.

"Save it for another day." Sara rolled her eyes at the lot of them and a second later her cell phone rang.

Warrick pounced. "Heads up…Sara's getting another booty call." He started the laughter but Catherine and Greg quickly caught up.

Ignoring them, Sara grabbed her phone and left the room, the phone number on the display thrilling her. "Still Frustrated?" She answered while heading down the hall to Grissom's office.

"Not one bit."

She knew what that meant. "Number six?"

"The rest of the pack ate his dust."

"Way to go!" When she reached his door she joked, "What is number six wearing?"

"A blue ribbon." He chuckled. "Are you at work yet?"

"Are you asking because you want to establish proper visualization **_or_** are you the boss checking up on me?" Glancing at her watch she reminded him, "I'm not on the clock for another five minutes."

"Are you telling me that because you want the boss to know you're exceedingly punctual**_ or_** are you letting me know how much time we have to fool around?"

"Both." Laughing she entered his office and shut the door. "I'm in your office again." Teasing him she gasped. "Oops I just knocked over a tall stack of papers. Oh well…they probably weren't that important."

"Are you trying to make me frustrated?"

"No." Smirking she sat on the edge of his desk. "If I was trying to make you frustrated I'd tell you what I have on under the black jeans and tight black tank shirt I'm wearing."

"So I know where you are, what you're wearing and what you're doing. How many minutes do we have left?"

"Two."

"Good." He released a devious chuckle before asking the next question. "Can you open filing cabinet number seven and pull my information on long-term spatial pattern analysis because I need a couple of numbers for my presentation tomorrow."

"Ugh!" Obliging she proceeded to the requested cabinet. "That was cheap."

"Is that _frustration_ I hear in your voice?"

**Break Room**

**10:05 p.m. **

The pre-game coffee huddle was in full swing when Sara breezed into the room.

Catherine, Warrick and Greg immediately stopped talking and stared at her.

"Minds out of the gutter, people." Scowling she headed for the coffee pot. "He needed some stats for his presentation tomorrow, that's why I was in his office."

"He needed some stats." Warrick nodded.

Greg nodded back. "For his presentation tomorrow."

Grabbing her mug she feigned irritation. "Aren't you a couple of parrots?"

The witty repartee was halted when Jim Brass popped into the room. "Tonight is your lucky night!"

Warrick announced, "That's what Grissom just told Sara on the phone a few minutes ago. He's been calling her looking for a little long distance TLC."

Brass headed for the coffee. "Please…I try really hard not to think of what they say and do to each other in private especially considering all those damn bugs in their house. Do you think she likes to play 'help rescue me from this hoard of beetles?'" He shivered at the thought.

Warrick gave his own scenario. "I'm thinking country girl from the ant farm."

Greg couldn't resist. Mocking a waif's voice, he cried out, "Pin me down like one of your butterflies in a frame."

"Enough already." Catherine shook her head. "Hanging out with the three of you tonight is like being back in high school. I know for a fact at least one of you isn't hard up so it must be a full moon."

"Okay I'm the big boss man so I'll set a good example and settle down." As he filled a mug, Brass informed them. "Here's the good news…I am your acting supervisor tonight and some of you will even have the pleasure of my company in the field."

"You're slumming?" Catherine grabbed the cream and doused her black coffee.

"Since the budget freeze prevented Grissom from hiring anyone you guys are short and well…" Glaring at Greg he added, "I thought I should check in on Sanders and see how he's doing. Now that he's a big hero, I want to make sure he's not getting too full of himself in the field."

Sara's cell phone ringing drew everyone's attention.

"Looks like someone needs a little more TLC!" Greg exclaimed as he refilled his mug. "Frankly I'm impressed he's ready so soon."

As if he were disarming a suspect, Brass stealthily snatched Sara's cell phone from her clip. "I'll be your secretary."

"Hey!" Sara went to grab it but it was too late.

"I'm sorry, Sara Sidle is unavailable to fulfill your wildest fantasies at the moment. Is there something I can do for you?" Enjoying the horrified look on Sara's face he leaned against the wall.

"Jim?" Grissom didn't miss a beat. "Yes, thanks. I was going to ask Sara to pull my file on long-term spatial pattern analysis."

"Is that some kind of twisted code?" Holding out the phone, Brass announced the request to the group. "He says he wants her to _pull his file_ on _long_-term _spatter_ analysis."

Warrick choked on his coffee.

"Sounds kinky." Greg concurred.

Sara grabbed the phone. "It's _spatial _analysis." Walking out of the room she yelled back. "You're all a bunch of sick freaks!"

**July 26, 2005 (Day 95)  
****DNA Lab  
****12:02 a.m.**

Sara and Greg were harassing Max for DNA results when Brass stuck his head in the room. "Time to rock and roll, kids. We got a 419 suspicious circs. Sanders…you drive. Tonight is apparently going to be _your_ lucky night."

Following Brass down the hall, Greg asked, "Where are we going?"

"I'll tell you when we get there." He shook his head. "Trust me…this one is truly going to be a test of your will, Greggy."

Sara followed along, happy to be out of the center of attention for the first time tonight.

Ten minutes later they pulled up in front of the crime scene and Sara's eyes turned to saucers and her stomach began braiding a knot. While Brass and Greg eagerly hopped out of the truck, she stayed glued to her seat.

"Are you joining us Sara?" Brass prodded as he opened the back door.

"Um…"

Greg rubbed his hands together like an eager schoolboy. "I've heard about this place. This will be good."

Brass motioned for Sara to hop out. "I know I haven't been in the field in a while but I distinctly recall CSIs leaving the truck carrying a shiny silver kit and working within the yellow tape." He laughed. "Or are you too tired from all that phone fun you've been having?"

Stepping out of the truck, she took a deep breath. "Sorry…I." She forced a smile. "I'm fine."

"Okay people." Brass announced to the gathering crowd around the police cars. "Clear a path."

Greg handed Sara her kit and smiled. "Lady Heather's Dominion. It's legendary."

Wrapping her fingers around the handle of her kit she gulped. "So I've heard."

_

* * *

Next episode: I've Got Your Number – Part 2 of 3_

_Teaser: Sara doesn't know Brass knows, Brass doesn't know Sara knows, Brass doesn't know Lady Heather knows Sara knows, and Greg knows NOTHING but likes EVERYTHING he sees. Oh and that's only the beginning…_

_Thanks for reading, _

Maggs


	9. I've Got Your Number Part 2

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

"**I've Got Your Number – Part 2"**

**July 26, 2005 (Day 95)  
****Lady Heather's Dominion  
****12:18 a.m. **

As they walked toward the candelabra-lit entrance of Lady Heather's dominion, Greg turned to Sara and joked, "How did you know to dress the part?"

"Excuse me?" It was hard to hear over her churning stomach.

"Tight black jeans, black tank, little black boots…you're going to blend with the working girls." He winked. "Not that I think you're bossy or anything."

When they got to the door, which was already opened and guarded by a police officer, Jim placed his hand on Greg's shoulder. "Good men have been known to get lost in this place so keep your focus. Don't make me drag you out of here." It was exactly what he should have done with Grissom after he didn't heed the repeated warnings. Glancing over at Sara he was thankful she knew nothing of the dalliance because it certainly would have made the situation awkward.

Hearing Jim's words sent a shiver up Sara's spine. Good men…she thought of one in particular. Wouldn't Jim be shocked to know it was Grissom?

Flashing their IDs, they breezed by the uniform at the door and stepped inside the alternate universe. Dozens of candles illuminated the foyer and at the top of the first landing was the lady herself posturing in black…a leather bustier, a floor length skirt slit up to her hip, fishnets and lethal knee-high boots. The only splash of color…her plump red lips.

Sara picked a piece of artwork on the wall and studied it while Greg inhaled every detail of the vixen posing in front of him.

"Lady Heather!" Brass jovially exclaimed, "It's been years! Funny how time flies when no one associated with you dies, but I guess all lucky streaks must come to an end. Okay, you know the drill…this is Greg Sanders and Sara Sidle, they're with the crime lab, like me, and we're all here to see the latest victim of your operation...Harry Wilson."

Slinking down the stairs, she noted who was in attendance and who wasn't. Once again she felt an inexplicable twinge of a usually unfamiliar emotion. When she reached the last step, she smiled. "Captain Brass."

Greg corrected her. "It's Assistant Lab Director Brass now."

"A promotion?" The right side of her mouth tipped. "Does it make you feel more powerful to have such an important title?"

Shrugging, he casually replied, "Most days it just makes me feel underpaid, but every once in a while I get a rise out of it."

"Ms. Sidle." Lady Heather beckoned, "We've met before at another crime scene, have we not?" Curving her lips into a wider smile she said, "Yes, I'm sure of it, but I recall you leaving rather suddenly. I hope it wasn't anything I said. I'm sometimes accused of being a bit blunt."

Finding her voice, Sara politely remarked, "I don't recall you saying anything significant. I was working. I'm sure I had something more important to do." Good…good…play it cool. This woman is a blip on the radar screen to Grissom, just like Brian Anderson was to me. If Grissom could sit across from Brian for almost an hour I can do this. Keep it professional. Keep it under control.

"And where is Mr. Grissom?" As predicted, Ms. Sidle winced at the mention of his name and when Lady Heather was certain she had her full attention she asked, "Didn't he feel like coming?" And when she got the desired reaction, she knew the game was afoot once more.

The double entendre wasn't lost on Brass, who found it thoroughly amusing until he realized the irony of whom she was saying it to. But he remembered Sara knew nothing and felt less guilty enjoying the lady's offbeat humor.

Greg was happy to finally find a reason to speak with the enchantress. "Actually, Grissom is out of town at a conference. Forensic Entomology. You know…bug science. He's really into it. Sara spoke with him earlier and he was all buzzed because his cockroach won the big race. It's kind of freaky, but so is Grissom."

Sara shot Greg a dagger. This woman didn't need to know any more personal information about Grissom. She knew far too much already.

Of course, Greg was so enthralled with Lady Heather he didn't notice Sara's glare.

Seeing Greg swoon, Brass clapped his hands twice. "Let's get on with the show, shall we? Where are we going, Lady Heather?"

"Follow me." With feline grace she mounted each step. "The deceased is in Classroom B."

"Ah…" Brass chuckled lightly. "He must have been a naughty little boy."

Pausing on the fourth step Lady Heather glanced over her shoulder and directed her comment at Greg. "I've yet to meet a boy who's not. However, I just met you, Mr. Sanders, so perhaps you'll prove my theory wrong." Then she shifted her eyes to Sara. "But I doubt it, because although men may appear civilized out in the real world, in mine they're all a little indecorous."

Not having a good retort handy, Sara kept her mouth shut and maintained strong eye contact. This time the woman was not going to get to her. Even if she popped in a video tape of her _one_ night with Grissom it would be okay…well…actually, that would be _way _too much to handle, but barring _that,_ Sara vowed not to be rocked by anything this woman had to say.

Winding up the staircase and playing off the latest information received courtesy of Mr. Sanders, Lady Heather weaved a tale. As luck would have it…well… not so lucky for dead Mr. Wilson, but for Lady Heather it was a coup…the dead guy's story fit her needs. "Mr. Wilson was an accountant and he was in town attending a convention. He had a tedious job and a tedious wife, but when he came to us two days ago, he finally found a cure for his monotony. He enjoyed it so much that he returned yesterday and again tonight."

Brass cut to the chase. "He found a cure and then it killed him."

"Not every man can handle what he truly desires, especially if he suppresses it long enough." At the top of the stairs, she paused to make sure she hadn't lost anyone's attention. "For years Mr. Wilson was bored with the trappings of suburbia and pretending to be titillated by his white-bread wife. So he leaves home for a few days and becomes someone else. He can do it here because it's safe. Sometimes you need to step into another world to fulfill your fantasies."

Brass quipped, "I'd like to step into Classroom B and fulfill my latest fantasy…finishing this investigation before dawn." Patting Greg on the back he groaned, "I'm sure the young buck is thrilled with your salacious storytelling skills but I've heard it all before and I'm the boss so I'm saying the magic words tonight…let's get moving."

Lady Heather obliged. "Exercising some of that new power, Mr. Brass? Tell me, did it make you feel underpaid or give you a rise?"

"I always feel underpaid when dealing with you, Honey."

Sara smiled inwardly. Hallelujah! Thank you Jim Brass! I would have said it myself if I wasn't gagging on her dubious diatribe. Not that there was _any _reason to doubt Grissom's dedication or think he, like the deceased Harry Wilson, would be stepping out of a conference for a foray in an alternative world tonight. Not a chance! By now Grissom was asleep in his hotel room getting rest for his presentation tomorrow.

When they reached the top of the tiered staircase, they proceeded past a variety of rooms, each harboring a different octave of scream or set of nefarious instructions.

"Hey, I remember this soundtrack," Brass remarked. "Biggest Hits of the Most Twisted." When he saw a man on a leash get tugged down the hall, Brass tapped Greg on the shoulder. "The leash I have you on tonight is much shorter than the one on that guy. I recognize that look in your eye, Greggo and you're so far up Lady Heather's skirt I'm starting to think you're a cross dresser." Stopping he motioned for Sara to step in front and follow Lady Heather. "Greg's enjoying the view a little too much, so I want you to take the lead."

"No problem, Jim." Sara did as requested and immediately noticed Lady Heather kick her swish up a notch. That's right…shake it. See if I care.

When Sara saw the uniform cop outside a room at the far end of the hall, she exhaled and thought, how odd I'm looking forward to spending time with a dead body over a live one.

"Who was working this room?" Brass asked as he produced a notepad.

"Athena."

Greg blurted, "Ahh…the goddess of wisdom."

"That's correct, Mr. Sanders." Leaning closer, Lady Heather whispered, "And trust me, Athena teaches many valuable lessons to our clients. Next to me, she's the best."

Scooting under the yellow crime tape hanging across the door, Sara acquainted herself with the scene. The room was set up like an old fashioned one room school house and there in the center was a shirtless dead guy slumped over an antique desk with a dunce cap still fastened on his head.

David Phillips was already there assessing the body.

"Hey," Sara said. "Whatcha thinking?"

"Fifty year old male, overweight, out of shape, out of his element. My guess would be Coronary episode…maybe some drugs involved. In any case, considering the scarring on his hands, wrists and arms plus the infamous locale…we would be remiss not to classify it suspicious circs." Returning some equipment to his bag, he stood. "Let me know when we can take him."

"Okay." Then she realized Greg was still in the hallway with Lady Heather and Brass. "Sanders! Am I working this alone or what!"

"Sorry, Sara." He hurried in and dropped down next to her. "What do you want me to do?"

From the hall Sara heard Lady Heather. "Nice work Ms. Sidle, he jumped quite high when you barked."

Greg grinned. "I think she likes me. What do you think?"

"Why would you want _her_?" Sara blurted, only realizing afterwards she didn't want to know his answer. But it was too late…

"What guy wouldn't want her? I mean you're not going to take her home to mama, but for one night! One week! One month!" He salivated. "She oozes sexuality like an exploding volcano oozes lava. I know she'd take me places a normal woman wouldn't dare tread and I'd wear her tread marks like a badge of honor."

That was _exactly_ what Sara didn't want to know. "Can we focus on the vic for a change! You do remember why we're here, right? If not, take a whiff of the corpse in the room." Shoving the camera at him, she barked, "You take pictures, I'll process, then we can get the hell out of here."

In a zombie voice, Greg replied, "Yes, I submit to your will, Lady Sara."

"You haven't seen me snap, Greg, but keep it up and you will."

Standing with the camera he needled her. "Geez…I save your life a couple of weeks ago and now you're looking to kill me. Very nice. And all because I have an overactive Id." He started snapping photos. "Are you on that special health regimen again? Maybe you need some coffee. I'll buy you a grande on the way back to the lab."

She sighed as she snapped on a pair of latex gloves. On top of everything else he had to bring _that_ up…what's next?

The first items Sara retrieved from the dead man's pants pockets were a wallet and a gold wedding band.

Greg remarked, "Looks like someone was feeling a little guilty and tucked away their ring." He snapped a couple more photos then asked, "Does Grissom have a ring like you do, Sara? Does he wear it when he's away from the lab so chicks..." He paused for a laugh, "or men shopping at Walgreens, know he's not available?"

"No. He doesn't." The thought never crossed her mind until _now._ Another thing to thank Greg for later. Mentally she started a list of reasons to be ticked at Greg. Of course she knew even a thousand reasons wouldn't be good enough to be mad at him considering she owed him her life.

Upon opening the wallet the first thing she saw was a family photo. "A wife, two kids and a retriever. Great. Why is it always a retriever? I'm glad Grissom and I only have bugs." She shook her head. "Imagine the phone call the wife gets tonight." It sickened her.

Greg took some close-ups of a ruler on the teacher's desk. "I think I found the source of the marks on his hands."

"I'll bag it." She groaned. "But it's not what killed him."

A half hour later, Sara and Greg left the room so David could finish.

It was also time to interview relevant parties…Athena and Lady Heather. The two women were waiting in Lady Heather's personal lair and Brass, Sara and Greg went to meet them.

Brass gave the orders. "Greg, you're with me and the goddess of wisdom. Sara, you handle Lady Heather." There was no way he was letting Greg, the poster child for needy boys nationwide, spend anytime in Lady Heather's presence.

Lady Heather pointed to a door on the left. "Why don't you go in there for privacy, Mr. Brass?"

"Thank you." Brass led the way.

"So, Ms. Sidle." Lady Heather took a seat at her table. "Think you can handle me like Mr. Brass requested? Or did Mr. Grissom mention I usually take the lead."

"Can we stop the BS now that we're alone?" Taking a seat across from her, Sara bluntly placed the cards on the table. "I know there's nothing I ever did to piss you off, because I only met you once for five minutes and before I said a word you were trying to humiliate me. So, my question is this…are you jealous of me or are you just a raging bitch? Huh? Which is it?"

"Jealous?" It was a bull's-eye but she'd never admit it. "You must be joking." Pointing to Sara's left hand she said, "I see you have a ring on your finger now. Tiffany's right?" A smirk popped up on her face. "Men used to tie women up and drag them around like chattel. What you have on your finger is the Victorian version of ownership. Being owned is the last thing I'd ever want."

"So you're just a raging bitch."

"I guess I am."

Sara shrugged. "Well if that's what it takes to get you through the night have at it. But I have a case to process so let's move on." She opened her notepad.

A snowball in hell had a better chance than the odds of Lady Heather giving up. "Does Mr. Grissom have a ring on his finger?"

Not looking up, Sara replied. "That's none of your business."

"That means no." Standing she decided to circulate the room. "Ownership is never a two way street. Someone is always the owner and someone is always the property. What else has he bought you besides that ring to keep you appeased? And why does he do it? Where is he tonight, Ms. Sidle?"

Jotting notes, she droned, "You heard Greg. He's at a conference."

"Yes, he's at a conference, but do you _really_ know where he is?" Leaning against the mantle she continued her attack. "After all, Mrs. Wilson thinks her husband is at a conference too."

Sara laughed. "Is this supposed to scare me?"

"You're human…you have doubts, most likely because at some point by someone you've been betrayed. He's human…we know he's easily swayed." Her grin expanded. "You're sitting less than five feet away from where I swayed him. Do you how long it took him to fall? Five minutes tops." Finally she saw a reaction. "Has he been calling you while he's away? They always call…it's the guilt. Dead Mr. Wilson called his wife from the classroom to bid her good night." Coming to rest in front of Sara she taunted her viciously. "It was one last taste of the mundane before he stepped into his fantasy. A Judas kiss goodnight if you will. Where is Mr. Grissom? Are you sure you _really_ know?"

With confidence Sara plucked her cell phone off her belt and punched his number. She knew it was almost two-thirty in the morning his time and he needed his rest to be fresh for his presentation, but she couldn't stop herself from proving the point.

Lady Heather folded her arms. "How many rings is that? Four? Five?"

Holding the phone to her ear, Sara's heart sank when she heard it go to voicemail. The one and only time she wasn't able to contact him and she had the worst possible audience.

"Hmm…" Lady Heather paced like a tigress once more. "I distinctly recall him turning off his phone when he stayed here. Actually…he left it where you are sitting. Don't feel bad Ms. Sidle. They're all the same. Didn't you see the look in Mr. Sanders' eyes? If given the opportunity, he'd be shutting off his phone and falling in minutes too. They are the weaker species. When you let Mr. Grissom put that ring on your finger you gave him the power. Now he's exercising some of it."

"Oh go to hell!" Fed up, Sara jumped out of her seat and let loose. "It was_ years_ ago and I don't really give a damn where Grissom stood or sat and believe it or not, I don't care where he slept with you. I don't care what you did to him and I don't care what he did to you, because it's irrelevant to our current life._ You_ are irrelevant to our current life."

Taking back some power never felt better and with every declaration Sara gained momentum as Lady Heather remained speechless. "Yes, he gave me a ring, but it doesn't symbolize ownership, it symbolizes a commitment and because of that commitment, I can say with_ total_ confidence that I know there is a perfectly logical explanation for him not answering the phone. You're playing games with my head, hoping I'll have doubts but I don't…_I won't_. Do you hear me? You have no power over _Grissom_. You have no power over _me_. Game over!"

Much to their discomfort, Brass and Greg heard it all…every last awkward detail of Sara's speech.

"What's going on?" Brass quizzed while piecing together the puzzle.

It was then Sara realized that Brass and Greg heard every one of her passionate words.

Suddenly it all made sense to Brass. Sara knew about Grissom and Lady Heather and Lady Heather knew who Sara was. Thinking back to the first minutes in the house earlier, he realized the revelation didn't just happen, they both knew the whole time. Knowing he joked about it in front of Sara, turned his stomach.

Innocently she replied, "I offered Ms. Sidle a cup of tea and she snapped." Lady Heather eyed Greg. "Would you like a cup of tea, Mr. Sanders?" Her point would be easily proven.

"No." Brass answered for Greg who was standing like a deer in headlights trying to make sense of Sara's heated words. "He doesn't want a cup of tea…but I do." He motioned for Sara and Greg to leave the room. "And shut the door behind you."

Once outside the room, Sara informed Greg. "I need to get some air."

"Hey, I'm worried about you." He took her arm. "Let me come with you. We'll take a walk around the block." He wondered what could be going on. First the incident with Tawny and now the insinuation that Lady Heather knew Grissom intimately. The Twilight Zone feeling was returning again. Had Grissom lied about Tawny? Was he really lying to Sara?

"Thank you but no." She held up her hand. "You stay here and work the case and I'll be back in a few minutes. All I need is a few minutes."

Gravely concerned, Greg watched her hurry down the hall but respected her wish and didn't follow her.

Once outside, Sara retreated to the truck to sort her rational and irrational thoughts. 99.9 of her believed in Grissom but that infinitesimal percentage of doubt remaining was fueled by the memories of a lifetime of betrayals.

Thankfully, she was only inside the truck for a few seconds when her phone rang. It was him. After taking two deep breaths she answered. "Hi, Honey."

"Sorry I missed your call."

The sound of his voice soothed her. "What are you doing awake? You should be sleeping."

"After I spoke with you earlier, I fixed my presentation materials with those new numbers you gave me. Then I took them to the twenty-four hour business center at the hotel. They said it was going to take twenty minutes so I took a walk."

"A walk?" Her breathing was returning to normal.

"Around the block…to clear my head. Someone told me to do that once when I was _frustrated,_ but I didn't listen to her."

It was another memory and it couldn't have come at a better time. Dropping her head in her hand, she sniffled and smiled. "Did it work?"

"Nope. I think it would have worked if the girl was with me though." He chuckled lightly. "Then and now."

Her sniffles went away but the smile remained. "So, what did you do after the walk?"

"You'll love this. The fresh air woke me up and I couldn't sleep, so I ordered a movie."

"Which movie?" Eager, she waited for him to say what she hoped he would say.

"Bridget Jones Two of course."

It was the answer she was waiting for. "You did not!" She had seen it with Catherine when it was in the theater because he had no interest.

"That part in the Thai prison was ludicrous. Do you know what kind of unsanitary conditions she would have experienced? We're expected to believe she walks away without scabies or dysentery? Please. I have to admit I was reading while it was on, but I watched some of it."

A hot tear of happiness slipped down her cheek when she realized the evidence doesn't lie. "Honey, why didn't you answer the phone when I called?"

"I'll never tell."

"Tell me." She wiped her tear away. "Please." She asked in a sugary tone.

"You _really_ have to know?"

"Yes." She knew it had to be a silly reason, which would only help her laugh more at Lady Heather's ridiculous insinuation. "Come on, it's really important to me!"

"Fine. I was um…reading in the bathroom and I didn't hear the phone over the fan."

Laughing, she said, "You have no idea how comforting that thought is to me!"

"That sounds a little deviant, Sara."

His choice of words couldn't have been more ironic. "Well…I blame the case I'm working on tonight."

"Where are you?"

"In back of a Tahoe."

"You're chatting while you're supposed to be working a case? When the boss finds out…"

"It's my break and trust me…I needed a break."

"Because you're _frustrated_?"

"I was but I'm not anymore!" Grinning, she said, "I need to get back now. Jim's acting supervisor, and since I'm not sleeping with him, he probably won't be as lenient as you."

"He will be if you give him banana bread."

**Lady's Heather's Personal Lair  
****1:30 a.m. **

Lady Heather stood in the corner of the ornate candle-lit room and asked in a sultry voice, "What kind of tea are you craving this evening, Mr. Brass? Something exotic perhaps?" She turned her back to him and readied two teacups and saucers on a brocade covered table.

"Hmm…let me think." He covered the room and came up behind her, placing his hands on the table, one on each side of her. In a harsh whisper, he replied, "How about green to match your mood."

"Excuse me?" Stunned, she turned to face him and found she was still trapped by his arms.

"Don't play coy with me. I've got your number, Lady Heather."

"You do?" She made sure he knew his imposing proximity had no impact on her by remaining nonchalant. "And what exactly do you think I am?"

"Jealous? Envious? Spiteful?" He shrugged. "All of the above."

"You're absurd." She met his accusing eyes without flinching. "But I've always enjoyed your company so please…keep amusing me."

"I'll do my best." Relentlessly, he continued. "I was in the interrogation room with you, remember? I saw the look on your face. Come on…he left you swinging in the breeze. You thought he would at least give you the benefit of the doubt, but he didn't. You were stunned. Now he has her and for some reason you don't like it. Why is that? You said you met Sara before…did he do something for her that he didn't do for you? Like protect her? Is that what has your fishnets in a knot? Come on…let it out. You'll feel better. Confession is good for the soul, or so I've been told."

"You have it all wrong, Mr. Brass." She chuckled whimsically. "I was the one who walked away from him after he exercised bad judgment. He apologized. I didn't accept."

"You waited for him to come groveling like one of you needy little boys. He didn't."

Her voice was firm. "His loss. Not mine."

"Really? Then why are you acting the way you are three years later?" He smiled and changed his voice to a whisper. "You thought you were doing him a favor that night and you were, but you didn't expect to get so much in return, did you? What…did he make you feel special? Like you were the only act in town? Here's a news flash, honey…you were the only act in town."

"No one _makes_ me feel anything." Shifting her weight she leaned forward, flaunting her figure. "I think you're the one who is jealous. I think you could be making your point standing further away but here you are on top of me. Why is that? You're his boss now so you want what he had?"

"Look in my eyes and tell me if you see even a hint of desperation." Wildly, he grinned. "Anything about my body language tell you I'm pent up? I don't think so. Whatever you have to offer I've already had. No. I'm not jealous. I just find it tiring to watch you pace a room and preen, so I'm exercising a little _control_ over the situation. Personally, I think you're enjoying it."

"So you do savor a little power now and then?"

"I also like banana bread every once in a while so what does that tell you?" Enjoying the banter and her failure to accept the obvious, he forged on with the interrogation. "Why is it bothering you so much? Huh? Was he sweet and sensitive? Did he quote a little poetry? Did he make you forget who you are and what you do?" Smiling he said, "Who were you kidding? A guy like him is like a stay in the country to a woman like you…quaint…but you know what they say, quaint gets old. He would have been yesterday's news in no time and he wouldn't have taken the news well. I warned him. I told him to buy a sports car instead, but did he listen?"

Trying to read his skilled eyes, she asked, "What makes you so sure I would have dismissed him?"

"Are you kidding?" Shaking with laughter, Brass shared his rationale. "He's away at a bug convention. On the way over here tonight, Sara sat in the truck excitedly relaying the details of his cockroach race victory. Do you really envision yourself playing that role in his life? With enough alcohol or enough desperation even the most unlikely pairings seem plausible for one night. Sanctuary with him felt good to you, but for years? For happily ever after? Come on…not for you. Predictability would drown you. A woman like you wants to be handled and he_ never_ could have handled you."

"What is your point, Mr. Brass?" Reaching out she placed her hands on his jacket lapels. "You do have one don't you, or did you just feel like spending time with me and this little speech is your excuse?"

His tone chilled. "My point? Leave Sara alone. She's a good person. She's what he needs, he's what she needs. Besides, she's never done anything to hurt you, so you're making a fool out of yourself belittling her. Green isn't a good color on you. Black is getting a little old too. Maybe you should try something else."

"Well now…what is it about her that makes men so protective of Ms. Sidle?" She narrowed her gaze.

"Some people deserve it."

"And you think I'm not one of them."

Playing her like a fiddle, he softened. "Well…it's hard to know because you're not really a person most of the time, you're an illusion. Isn't that right? Maybe you've been doing this gig so long you don't even know who you are or what you're doing." Suddenly he laughed. "Look at Greg nipping at your heels. Does it really make you feel good having needy little boys drop at your feet? I could dangle a steak and get a dog to jump, but would I have accomplished anything? Give me a break, Baby. You think you're a temptress, but you're only tempting sure things. You say you're a dominatrix, but you're only dominating what you can easily control. The one thing you _couldn't _control you're still pissed about years later. So what does that really say about you? Huh? What does that say about your power?"

"You seem to know everything tonight." She inched close enough to feel his breath on her lips. "You tell me."

He answered her question with his eyes on her mouth. "Maybe one day if you say the magic word." After pausing just long enough, he stepped back smiling. "But not tonight."

His retreat infuriated her. "Don't think you're coming back here."

"I don't intend to come back but should you need to find me..." Reaching into his pocket he produced a business card. "You've got _my_ number. You know, in case you want to share any information on tonight's case or any other pertinent matters. Good night, Lady Heather."

Folding her arms across her chest she curtly replied, "No. It's g_oodbye_, Mr. Brass."

He winked. "I seriously doubt that."

_

* * *

__Next Episode: I've Got Your Number – Part 3 _

_Teaser: Sara has that awkward…I wish you didn't hear what I said or know what you know' feeling to overcome with Brass and Greg. Brass thinks of way to help. Plus the number games continue…_


	10. I've Got Your Number Part 3

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

"**I've Got Your Number – Part 3"**

**July 26, 2005 (Day 95)  
****Lunar Lounge  
****5:18 a.m. **

When Sara returned to the crime scene at Lady Heather's, she couldn't have felt more comfortable about her relationship with Grissom.

Unfortunately, being a private person, Sara couldn't have felt more _un_comfortable about her relationship with Brass and Greg. Not only did they know Grissom frolicked with the dominatrix at the salacious pleasure palace, on top of that they heard her words and saw her get emotional with Lady Heather. Though all of that was bad enough, it wasn't the source of her greatest discomfort. She feared they would now think _the lifestyle _was a part of her life. After the previous cases at Lady Heather's she heard the jokes Catherine made, she knew Nick's thorough disgust of the place. Now she wondered would she and Grissom be part of those jokes…that disgust?

Although she attempted to fake it, Brass knew Sara was dying on the inside. She couldn't make eye contact and she used the phrases, _I'm fine_, _it's fine_ and _we're fine_ dozens of times within a half hour. So he decided there was only one way Greg, Sara and him could get beyond the awkwardness. The kind of awkwardness one feels when too much personal information is acquired. They needed to go out together, get hammered and do a little bonding.

So, the traumatized three returned to the lab just before four, and Sara and Greg punched out as instructed. Brass was confident Catherine and Warrick could easily handle what was left of the slow Tuesday shift and since he was the boss and feeling a little powerful, he could do whatever he wanted.

They took a taxi to a place of Jim's choice…the Lunar Lounge. A horribly tacky way off the strip bar with a retro astronaut theme…cheesy Styrofoam planets hung from the ceiling and glow in the dark stars were stuck to the walls. The staff wore cheap space-themed outfits and tossed astronaut lingo around while going about their business. The place was popular with local lushes over-sixty, which made Sara and Greg wonder how Jim knew about the place and why he liked going there.

Huddled in a u-shaped booth for over an hour slamming drinks, they were quickly reaching the saturation point when they could talk freely.

"Jim." Sara picked up her beer. "Are you ever going to tell us how you know this place exists?"

"I found it by accident." Resting his arm on the back of the booth, he lovingly looked at the planet Uranus dangling above him. "I liked all this space crap when I was a kid so it was visually appealing and no one knew me which was personally appealing. If the Jetsons took crack this is where they'd come to buy it."

"Who are the Jetsons?" Greg curiously asked.

"Shut up, Sanders," Brass sneered. "You're making me feel old. That's another reason I come here, I'm always the youngest guy in the place."

"Do you pick up chicks here?" Asked Greg who was the drunkest of the three, although Sara was quickly closing the gap. "'Cause I'm into the Mrs. Robinson thing but dude, seriously…"

"No, I don't pick up chicks here. I come here for the ambiance." Brass raised his glass of scotch. "Besides, I don't pick up chicks anywhere, Greggy. They hit on me. I'm a babe magnet. The notches on my bed post would astound you."

Sara choked on her Amstel Light. "I thought we came here to erase some bad visuals, not create more."

"Another round of shots, Commander!" Jim shouted to the geriatric bartender wearing a faux Apollo 11 space suit.

A few minutes later the bartender dropped off three shot glasses and cheered, "Blast off!"

Having done this four times already, Brass, Sara and Greg each grabbed a glass and enthusiastically replied, "To the moon!"

When they slammed them down, Brass announced, "okay it's time."

"Okay." Sara started laughing. "Normally I wouldn't think this is remotely humorous but sitting in a grungy bar filled with plastic planets and doing shots, I'm dealing."

Jim made the announcement. "Tonight we learned several things. First and foremost we learned that Sara Sidle, when incensed, can give a smack down like no one else can."

"The Sara-Sidle-Smackdown was awesome!" Greg lifted his beer in her honor. "You were intense. The black clothes helped too. Actually you and Lady Heather both had that, I'm not taking any crap kind of look. And because I'm intoxicated from drinking a lot of liquor very quickly on anempty stomach, I'll say this…in hindsight, it's a shame it didn't get a little physical…wrestling and tearing each other's clothes off would have been a nice touch."

Brass gaped at the boy. "What color is the sky in your world, Greg?"

Sara once again choked on her beer. "Yeah, Greg, that helps me feel more comfortable, considering you've been referring to me as your _sister_ for the past two weeks. No wonder you were drooling at the dominion. You're a sick pup."

"Sorry." He groveled. "If it makes you feel any better, I won't remember I said that tomorrow. So can you forgive me now because if you forgive me tomorrow I won't remember what I did wrong and it won't mean anything? Also, I definitely don't want to sleep with Lady Heather anymore because now that I know Grissom slept with her it would be like sleeping with my dad's sloppy seconds and that squicks me out big."

"Shut up." Brass smacked Greg upside the head. "Since Greg tossed it out though…let's deal with it, Sara. We know, that you know, that we know, that Grissom slept with Lady Heather in her pleasure dome. There, it's out there and really it's no big deal. It's not like you and Grissom were together at the time. Realistically, who the hell hasn't woken up next to someone and wondered how the hell did this happen?"

Greg nodded. "Been there."

Sara concurred. "Done that."

Of course Greg was intrigued. "When did you do that, Sara? It wasn't anyone at the lab, was it? It wasn't that guy who worked in DNA days for a while, was it? Because if you chose that DNA dog over me…"

"No!" She snorted. "In college."

Brass grinned. "See…we're fine. We're laughing."

"We are." Sara slurred. "It's not going to be awkward." Then she panicked. "Unless of course you guys _make_ it awkward, because you already give me a lot of crap about Grissom…not that I mind the jokes about me, because it makes me feel like part of the family, but I don't think I can handle jokes about _her_."

"Not a problem. Dominatrix jokes are off-limits." Brass threw his arm around Greg in a semi-chokehold. "You're never going to joke about this with her, are you Greggy?"

"No sir." He replied while struggling for a breath.

"See…nothing to worry about."

"There is one more thing." Sara felt compelled to clarify the burning thing on her mind. "You guys know Grissom's not into…and I'm not into…I mean you don't think we're running around the house with masks, whips and chains, do you?"

Greg reminded Brass. "She was real adamant about not letting us see the bedroom when we were there for brunch."

"Ugh!" Sara dropped her head in her hands. "You guys already thought we were freaks before this and now…"

"Fear not." Brass kindly assured her. "We know you're normal freaks."

Greg nodded. "Absolutely."

"Really?" Finally she relaxed. "Thanks guys." Smiling, she did feel much better. "You know what's funny? I can't spend five minutes with _her_ without losing it, but when Grissom and I went to San Francisco we met up with my ex-boyfriend and his wife. I made Grissom have drinks with them because I wanted to prove I was in a great relationship and so over the ex-bastard."

"What?" Brass gawked at her. "You _never_ make a guy have drinks with a guy who has intimate knowledge of your woman." He rolled his eyes. "Grissom did that for you?"

"Yeah."

Brass chortled, "My god, you really have him whipped."

Greg, desperately trying not to laugh, shook uncontrollably.

"I thought you said, no dominatrix jokes!" Sara punched him in the shoulder. "You just broke your own rule!"

Brass casually replied, "I guess that makes me naughty."

Finally Greg lost control and collapsed in a fit of laughter in the booth.

"Sara Sidle! It is you!" Roxie Delacroix, Sara's former neighbor, sauntered over wearing a purple leather jumpsuit, puffing on a Kools and clutching a tumbler of gin. "And Jim…long time no see, baby."

"Hey, Roxie." Brass clinked his glass to hers.

"You two know each other?" Sara grinned.

Clutching the table, Greg pulled himself up. "Oh!" He shrieked when he saw the flamboyant ex-hooker. "What spaceship did you fly in on?"

"Why?" Blowing smoke in the boy's face she growled. "You want to blast off with me?"

Brass and Sara clung to each other as they laughed. Finally Sara whispered, "If Greg sleeps with her I'll feel much better about Grissom and Lady Heather."

Leaving the flummoxed boy alone, Roxie turned to Sara. "Tell me…how is Mr. Grissom because I miss seeing him around the apartment. He needs to come spend a little time on my couch again." Grissom had a lengthy discussion about Mark Twain's works with Roxie when Sara was re-decorating her kitchen. "I miss that man."

"Here we go again." Greg rolled his eyes. "Grissom slept with her too?"

"Ha!" Roxie riotously laughed. "He wishes." Pointing to a man across the room, Roxie announced. "I'm afraid I have to go kids. The night is young and my space stud awaits. Nice seeing ya."

Checking the time, Brass said, "This place shuts down at six, so how about we grab a taxi and get the hell out of here."

"Okay dokie." Sara attempted to stand but promptly fell back into the booth giggling uncontrollably. "I really can't hold my liquor anymore."

The guys laughed at her floundering.

"Seriously!" Gasping for air, she made a second attempt to right herself. "When I was in San Francisco with Grissom I got so drunk I did a strip tease in our limo and before I knew it I made five hundred bucks!" Then she proudly added. "Well…a chunk of the cash was for services rendered."

Brass and Greg stood staring at her.

"Oh god!" She clutched the table with one hand and her spinning head with the other. "Did I just say that out loud!"

"Oh yeah," Greg confirmed while looking at Sara in a whole new light. "I uh…don't think you have to worry about us giving you crap about Lady Heather."

Brass grabbed Sara's hand and yanked her out of the booth. "Come on, Boom-Boom, let's get you home."

"I was kidding!" She groveled. "You know I was kidding, right!"

**Sidle-Grissom House  
****8:17 a.m.**

Sara's cell phone ringing on the living room coffee table eventually caught Brass's attention. "Okay okay." From his position on the couch and without opening his eyes, he pawed for the source of the annoying noise. When he finally had the phone in his hand, he answered with a bark. "What!"

"Sorry wrong number."

"Wait." Jim thought he recognized the voice on the end of the line. "Gil?"

"Jim?"

"Yeah." Opening his eyes he remembered where he was and whose phone it was.

"Why are you answering Sara's phone?" He grumbled. "Another practical joke?"

"No." Trying to wake up, Brass vigorously rubbed his face. "I'm answering it because Sara's asleep in the bedroom and Sanders is passed out in the bathroom so I'm the only capable one in the house."

"Excuse me?"

"Relax." He enjoyed the panic in his pal's voice especially after cleaning up the Lady Heather debacle. "We didn't have a three-way if that's what you're thinking."

"Thanks for the reassurance, but actually the thought never entered my mind." There was a pause and then he asked. "But what exactly is going on?"

"See if you can figure it out. Here's your clue." Slowly he sat up. "If you owned a sports car, then I wouldn't be sleeping off a bender on your couch because of what happened in the field last night."

"You're not as good at this as Sanders." Grissom huffed. "I need a little more."

"How about this." Brass threw his feet up on the coffee table. "Where's the last place you'd ever send Sara to process a case? It starts with D and rhymes with opinion?"

"Please tell me you're joking."

"No can do." He heard angsty breathing through the phone. "I didn't know she knew. If I did, I never would have taken her there. She still doesn't know that I knew before she knew. Oh and Sanders was there too, which was unfortunate for so many reasons, but mainly because Sara got to watch him playing your part…the panting puppy nipping at Lady Heather's boots."

"Is Sara okay? Because the last time they met, it didn't go very well. She was hell bent on making Sara uncomfortable."

Brass chuckled at the rising anxiety in Grissom's voice. "Yeah, I think it went a little worse this time. When I walked in the room, Lady Heather had just finished giving Sara the blow by blow of how you spent your time there." He let him suffer in silence for a minute and then said, "But Sara put the lady in her place, so there's nothing to worry about."

"Really?" Surprise dominated his voice. "What did she do?"

"Got in her face." He laughed. "I don't remember exactly what she said but here's the gist in my own words…I don't care if you had him twice in every corner of the room. He's mine now and I know he's not going anywhere, so back off, bitch." Brass fondly recalled the moment. "If you don't believe me, just ask Sanders. He got a real rise out of watching the confrontation. Not that I blame him, because chicks getting territorial is right below chicks getting it on…but I digress."

"I should have handled this with Lady Heather before it got this far."

"Really?" Brass was thoroughly amused by the response. "Considering how well you confront personal issues in a timely manner, it shocks me that you didn't. Cough cough…hospital in Tahoe. Anyway, you don't have to worry, because Sara handled it for you. That's one special woman you've got there." He felt obligated to give him his monthly reminder. "You're one lucky SOB. You know you don't deserve her, right?"

"Yes, but it's always good to hear it from you every month."

"My pleasure." Standing up he walked over to the kitchen.

"So if everything is fine, why are you all drunk? And why are you and Greg at my house?"

"Well…" Brass opened the fridge and surveyed the situation. "Sara was a little embarrassed that we witnessed the confrontation and became privy to your twisted sex life. To remedy the situation, I suggested we get plastered. You know, so she could relax and be harassed about the incident until she could joke about it and it was no longer uncomfortable."

"Did it work?" He asked optimistically.

"Definitely." Brass continued to forage. "Oh and in other news, Greg assured Sara he no longer wants to sleep with Lady Heather because it would be like having Daddy's sloppy seconds. Which would also mean he's stopped lusting after Sara."

"Can you see me cringing through the phone?"

"No, but I sense it." Brass grabbed a carton of OJ. "Where would I find a drinking glass in your kitchen? I need to jump start my blood sugar."

"Cabinet above the sink, right hand side."

"Got it." Turning around he took the glass and the OJ to the island, where he noticed a variety of books. "Well now…" He smirked. "I think I just found out another one of your secrets."

"Great. What?"

"I found some reading material in the kitchen." While opening the OJ he checked out the titles, every one of them contained the words conception, pregnancy or baby.

"Imagine that? Books in my house. We have a library, Jim."

"A library huh? Well, I must be staring at part of the Biology section, specifically, the pregnancy section." While pouring a glass of juice, the realization hit him and his tone suddenly turned serious. "Must have made the attack in the desert even more terrifying for her. Now I know why you reacted so strongly even when I told you she was going to be fine." Sadly he said, "I realize she wouldn't have been drinking today if she was still pregnant. I'm sorry."

"Thanks, Jim, I appreciate your concern, but she wasn't pregnant."

"Oh." Relieved, his assumption was incorrect, Brass returned to prying. "So did the near-death experience in the desert jump start her biological clock? Because she's got a lot of books here and it looks like she's been studying." Still buzzing from the binge, Brass realized he was a littler slower on the uptake than normal. "Oh…unless she has all this stuff out because you're out of town and you don't know about this. In which case, I feel like an ass."

"I know she's looking into it." He said stoically.

While polishing off his juice, he assessed Grissom's statement. "That sounded less than enthusiastic and rather one-sided. You want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly."

"How surprising." Brass grabbed the OJ and headed back to the fridge. "I'm gonna tell you something and for once, I'm not yanking your chain."

Opening the fridge, he returned the juice, and then leaned against the door. "You know my history with Ellie. As bad as it's been, it's been worth it and I'm not even her biological father. What I'm saying is…being a father can be wonderful, it can be a nightmare and it can be a lot of things in between. For what's its worth, I think you'd be an excellent father and certainly a hell of a lot better at it than I've ever been or could be."

As expected, Brass didn't get a response from Grissom. "Okay, I'm hanging up now, because we both know you're not going to comment on what I just said, and I've got to pee like a racehorse. Enjoy hanging with the bug freaks. Bye."

**12:27 p.m. **

Freshly showered and dressed in a pair of grey lounge pants and a white tank shirt, Sara headed for the kitchen. Desperate to down some Advil, she needed to eat something to coat her stomach.

Upon reaching the fridge she saw a note taped on the door. After pulling it off, she brushed the hair out of her bloodshot eyes and proceeded to read it.

_Hey Boom Boom (do you even remember why I'm calling you that? If not, ask Greg, because I'm sure it's permanently burned in his brain), _

_I thought you should know the following: _

_Spoke with the bug man this morning (he called looking for phone sex, but you were asleep and I wasn't interested). Instead, I filled him in on the details of our adventure at the Dominion. He was very concerned about you (shocking). I told him about the Sara-Sidle-Smackdown and how you told the dominatrix you really don't give a rat's ass whose ass Grissom had in the past, because it's all about the future now. Of course, I reminded the man he doesn't deserve you, (as I promised I would do at least once a month, every month, for the rest of his life as punishment for leaving you behind in Tahoe)._

_Speaking of the future, I noticed your pile of baby books in the kitchen and mentioned it to him while on the phone. He didn't want to talk about it (shocking) so I felt compelled to give him my two cents (shocking) which I hope (I'm actually being sincere here) helps your cause, because the world could use another generation of Sara Sidle. As far as another generation of Grissom, I'm not sure the world is ready, but I guess it's a package deal, huh? _

_Lastly, I thought you should be aware that Greg passed out on your bathroom floor, and I believe that is vomit on his clothes. It might be in his hair too, but who the hell knows, because his hair is always messed up. Good luck with him. Think of it as good mommy practice but don't let Greg know that's what you're doing because he may get Oedipal (is that how you spell that?). _

_Your biggest fan_

Sara's whole face was spread into a smile by the time she was done reading the note. Family, she realized, doesn't have to be biological.

Glancing over at the island, she saw her spread of baby books. What did Brass tell Grissom, she wondered.

Checking the clock, she realized it was after Grissom's lunch break so she couldn't call. She'd have to wait for him.

When she looked up, she saw Greg walking toward her like a zombie. "Hey, Boom Boom."

"Okay, what's with the Boom Boom thing?" She laughingly asked. "And do you realize you have puke on your clothes?" Apparently, Greg was playing the part of the family embarrassment.

"Is that what smells?" He ran his fingers through his hair, which was standing up on the left and complementing the rug print etched in his cheek. "Mind if I grab a shower?" He started unbuttoning his crusty shirt.

She rolled her eyes. "Only the master shower works, which means I'm going to have to let you in my bedroom."

"Cool." He grinned. "I'll get to see where you keep the whips and the masks."

Ignoring his attempt at humor, she walked by him. "Follow me, puke boy." Sighing, she led him down the hall. "I suppose you want something to change into, huh?"

"Yours or Grissom's clothes?"

"Which would freak you out less?"

"Uh…I'm not really sure."

Laughing, she replied, "Me either."

When they reached the bedroom door, she paused. "Remember…no snooping."

"What would I find?" He wiggled his brows.

"When I catch you? My boot print on your ass from kicking you to the curb." Then she realized he'd probably like that. "Let's go."

When she opened the door, Greg stepped inside. "Well, this is a total disappointment. It's just a nicely decorated normal bedroom."

"Sorry to disappoint you." Smiling, she crossed the room, walked into the bath suite, and flicked on the lights. "I'll grab a t-shirt for you and leave it on the bed." Opening the linen closet, she snatched a couple of towels and tossed them on the counter. "Remember, we live in a desert, so don't waste water."

"That's code for get out of my bedroom as soon as possible." Removing his shirt, he laughed. "Would you mind throwing this shirt away?"

"Gladly. I've always hated this shirt." Using two fingers to hold it, she headed out of the room.

**Colorado Springs Doubletree Hotel and Conference Center  
1:58 p.m. MST/12:58 p.m. PST**

Finished with his presentation, Grissom headed for the lobby to call Sara. After the conversation with Brass this morning, he couldn't wait to talk with her. Certain she would be home recovering, he called the house phone instead of her cell.

"Still concerned?" Sara answered the phone with verve.

It was a relief to hear perkiness in her voice. "Jim told me I shouldn't be. Should I? I'm sorry about what happened, Sara."

"No, you shouldn't be concerned or sorry. Really, it's so insignificant I don't want to waste any of what little break time you have talking about it. How did your presentation go?"

Relaxing in an overstuffed arm chair, he breathed a sigh of relief. "It went great."

"I just remembered, I never asked you…how was the blowfly pie?"

"It blew." When he heard her laughter, he knew things were really okay. "Where are you?"

"The garage."

"What are you doing in there?"

"Believe it or not, I'm throwing away a grocery bag containing Greg's vomit-crusted shirt."

It wasn't exactly a pleasantry he was hoping to hear during the conversation. "And what is Greg wearing?"

Her laughter rang through the phone. "Are you sure those guys in Walgreens didn't give you ideas about Greg?"

He wished he could see her smile. "I meant now that Greg's shirt is in our trash."

"Well…you're going to hate this but, right now he's in our shower and I had to give him one of your t-shirts to wear."

Teasing, he said, "I've only been gone for two days and you're replacing me with a younger, stranger man?"

"Impossible. You're irreplaceable."

Considering the horrible night she had, he found her words even more meaningful. "I can't wait to see you tomorrow night."

"Luckily, I have the night off." She playfully reminded him. "And in case you were wondering, now I'm in the living room lying down on the couch, wearing lounge pants and a tight tank shirt."

Noticing a crowd gathering in the area, he stood up and headed outside. "Make sure you thank your boss for giving you the night off."

"Don't worry, I plan on showing him my gratitude all…night…long."

Her voice had a sexy rasp he found irresistible and now he was pretty certain she was still a little drunk. Since he was feeling a little lonely he gladly played along. "I'm sure your boss will be _very _appreciative."

"I'm thinking of wearing something special for the occasion," She purred, "because he's a special guy."

"I bet he'd like that." Suddenly he was thankful the cool breeze outside was counteracting the heat she was projecting.

In a pouty voice, she announced, "But I'm so _frustrated_."

Glancing over his shoulder he made sure he was alone. "Why are you frustrated?"

"I can't decide between two pieces of naughty lingerie. Since you're a man, you probably have an idea what the boss would like to see me wear. Not that I'll have it on for very long," she giggled wildly. "You see the boss has a hard time controlling himself around me when I'm wearing lingerie, or red dresses, or nothing at all. But back to my question…should I go for the lasciviously lacy La Perla or the sinfully sheer…

Disappointed she stopped talking, he asked, "Sara, can you hear me?"

"Yeah, but…unfortunately _Greg _heard me. So right now I have to go die of embarrassment."

"And I need to take a walk around the block again." He chuckled into the phone. "I'll call you on my next break. Bye, Honey."

"Hope the walk helps. Bye."

* * *

_Next Episode: I've Got Your Number – Part 4 _

_Teaser: Timing is everything _


	11. I've Got Your Number Part 4

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

"**I've Got Your Number – Part 4"**

**Sidle-Grissom House  
****5:34 p.m. PST/6:34 p.m. MST**

Sara was lounging on the bed reading, The Ultimate Guide to Conception, Birth and Everything in Between, when the house phone rang.

With a smile on her face, she lunged for the cordless. "Greg is gone. I'm still wearing the same thing. Now I'm in our bed. You don't want to know what I'm doing."

"If Greg was there I wouldn't want to know, but since he's gone, I do."

"How was dinner?" She asked while slipping under the sheets. "What did they serve tonight? Slug stew?"

"It was a little gooey."

"I bet." She fluffed her pillow. "So you didn't give me your updates. Tell me your 'whats'.

"Still wearing the same thing. I'm in my room, relaxing on the bed. And I'm happy to be finally talking to you, for what will hopefully be more than five minutes, because this is day three and I'm missing you. I've never missed anyone when I've been away at these things." He sighed. "Well that's not entirely true."

Her curiosity piqued, she said, "Care to elaborate on that point?" A tentative chuckle followed. "I mean, considering the night I had last night, I'm a tad sensitive when it comes to you talking about other women."

"I wasn't talking about _another_ woman, I was talking about you."

"Are you sure you're not covering a slip?" Smiling, she asked, "I think I still need you to elaborate so I know for sure."

"If you must know." He sighed again. "There were times in the past, before we were together, when I've been away on trips like this one, and I've thought of you. However, I couldn't call and tell you I missed you like I am now, because I wasn't telling you how I felt when I was face to face with you." He chuckled. "It would have been a bit shocking to get that phone call, don't you think?"

"Trust me. I wouldn't have minded!" Shaking her head, she laughed. "How many times?"

"You want a number?" He returned her laughter. "Suffice it to say it was a regular occurrence."

"I have a confession." Turning on her side, she grinned. "Sometimes when you were away I would call you about cases just to hear your voice."

"I didn't mind."

A devious smile erupted on her face. "So you've been in this position before…in a hotel room, thinking about me."

"Yes."

"When was the first time?" Sensing his hesitancy, she prodded, "I have this need to make sure I know you more than anyone. Please tell me."

"No one ever has, nor ever will, know me like you, Sara."

The tenderness in his voice warmed her heart. "Tell me when."

"San Francisco. The first day we met. I was in my room thinking, why didn't I ask her to go for a drink?"

"Why didn't you?" She remembered the day like it was yesterday.

"I was afraid you would say no."

"I would have said yes."

Cautiously, he asked, "Did you think of me that night?"

"Oh yeah."

"Really? What were you thinking?"

Chuckling, she gave him the bad news. "Why didn't that jerk ask me to go for a drink!"

"So why did you talk to me the next day?"

"I wanted to get to know you and thought you were playing hard to get." Sara grumbled, "I had no idea it was just the tip of the iceberg!"

"You know why I didn't ask you out the second day?"

"Why?"

"Because I was afraid you'd say yes."

Enthusiastically, she admitted, "I would have said yes."

"Exactly, and what would I have done with that! The possibilities were terrifying." He groaned. "Hemingway said cowardice is almost always simply a lack of ability to suspend the functioning of one's imagination. I could only imagine the worst possible outcomes."

"And so it began…the story of our life." Catching a glimpse of the book she was reading when he called, she said, "We danced the dance of indecision for too many years. Wasted too much time."

"I know." He sighed. "Let's discuss something else. You still haven't told me what you were doing when I called."

Suddenly desiring more historical information, she whispered, "Did you only lie awake thinking of me when you were _out_ of town? Or was this a local habit too? Tell me…did you ever find yourself at home fantasizing about me, Grissom?"

"Uh…this is getting a little uncomfortable, Sara."

"Remember what Hemingway said about the imagination. You're imagining if you tell me the truth something bad will happen. Nothing bad is going to happen." Knowing he was squirming, she said, "We're building intimacy."

"We're apart."

"Geographically yes, but I'm feeling closer to you than ever. Let's talk…let's really talk…let's share things we've never shared." She gave him a minute then tried to joke him into a comfort zone. "For instance, you know missing cockroach number five? I accidentally squashed him but didn't tell you. It wasn't murder, it was accidental roach slaughter. See how easy it is to bare your soul?"

Through the phone he chuckled. "Good thing it wasn't number six. And the question you asked me is _a lot_ more intimate than the confession you just shared."

"I was illustrating a point." She rolled onto his side of the bed. "I'll tell you anything you want to know but first…answer my question."

"You want to know how often I thought of you before we were together?"

"Nice stall. Now answer the question."

"Number of times, huh?" After a deep breath he said, "Do you want a weekly, monthly or annual total?"

Sweetly laughing, she replied, "I think that's specific enough, Honey. See how easy it is to open up."

"How often did you think of me?"

"Daily." She laughed at herself. "But don't flatter yourself, it wasn't always good stuff. I can say with full confidence there were days I was one step away from fashioning a voodoo doll in your image."

"I'm sure and rightly so." With trepidation in his voice, he asked, "What did you think of me the night you asked me out and I said no?"

"You don't really want to know that, do you?"

"No. You're right. I don't." Then he redirected, "So answer this for me. That night, when you asked me out, or _cornered_ me as I remember it…"

"Hey, I could have died that day in the lab explosion, so I was feeling a little bold. It's a pattern in my life. I almost died two weeks ago and I want to make a baby. Near-death experiences give me incredible focus." Curling up with his pillow, she confessed, "I did corner you, but only because I didn't want you to get away before I got my words out. Now ask me your question."

When he replied, his voice was softer. "That night I said I didn't know what to do about us and you said you did…"

"I remember it perfectly. It's on my top ten list of humiliating experiences. Although it's promptly falling toward the bottom of the list considering my experiences of late." Then she realized she kept cutting him off. "Sorry, sweetie, please continue."

"That night when I was home alone like an idiot, instead of out to dinner with you, I was thinking, I wonder what she would have said if I asked, _'okay, you say you know what to do, so tell me, what should we do?'_ I didn't ask then, so tell me now, what you would have said?"

Staring at the ceiling she gave her reply. "Honey, if you had asked that question, I wouldn't have had specifics. All I knew at the time was that I thought it would work if we gave it a chance. I was so sure. I was going to push the issue but I didn't. I walked away."

"We know now it was bad timing. My ear surgery was coming up. I wasn't in the right place. If you had pushed the issue that night, I think it would have made things worse."

"Was there ever a good time? Did I miss an opportunity?" Again she stared at her pile of books. "Was there a moment when, if I had pushed just a little, it would have happened sooner?"

"Yes, but it's not your fault, Sara. I shouldn't have been standing there waiting for you to push the issue. And who knows…if it happened sooner maybe it wouldn't have worked."

Closing her eyes, she whispered, "Tell me the moment."

"There were a few."

"Tell me the most significant."

"It was a couple of years ago. I just finished my end of the Debbie Marlin case and handed it over to the DA. Do you remember the Marlin case?"

With his one hint, she knew exactly what he was going to say. "Yes." And it killed her to know she was so close and missed the window of opportunity.

"The next night, we got a call to go to Boulder City, to process a DB in a city park. Everyone else was gone so I took you. I didn't want to take you, Sara because you were on my mind. But I had no choice, so we drove out there together. There was something about you that night. Every time I looked at you, it was like you were reading my mind…not about the case, but my personal thoughts. It was like you knew I was thinking about you. Do you remember the case?"

"Absolutely."

"The case didn't take long, the COD turned out to be natural causes, anaphylactic shock from a bee sting. We finished up. You said you were hungry. So, after packing the truck, we went to a coffee place down the street, grabbed some food and went back to the park, to the truck." His voice cracked. "It was late, everyone was gone and we were alone. We were sitting in the truck and when you said my name, our eyes met." He paused to free a heavy sigh. "It was like you were looking into my soul, Sara. I waited for you to say something…I was so sure you were going to say something, and I knew if you said anything about us…_anything_…I wouldn't be able to hold back my feelings. And just when I thought you were going to say it…"

Regret flooding her voice, she filled in the blank. "I said, never mind."

"You remember the moment?"

"Yes." She burrowed further under the covers. "I knew exactly what you were thinking that night, that's why I didn't say anything. I knew, but it wasn't because I could read your mind."

"What do you mean?" He asked, in a perplexed tone.

Emotion building in her voice, she admitted her secret. "I was on the other side of the glass when you were interrogating Dr. Lurie. I heard what you said…someone young and beautiful shows up and offers us a new life with her…I knew it was me on your mind and I was thrilled to finally know the truth, but then…then I heard you say you couldn't take the risk and I didn't know if it was the end or it was an opportunity. So that night in Boulder City..."

"What were you going to say that night?"

She knew he was waiting with baited breath. "I wasn't going to say anything. I was going to kiss you. I was going to kiss you because I remembered the look on your face in the interrogation room. You looked so lonely and I was so lonely. I thought if I reached out…but I was too afraid I might find out I still wasn't worth the risk to you, so instead of kissing you, I said, never mind."

"Oh, Sara."

Sniffling she asked, "If I had kissed you, would you have kissed me back?"

"Yes. Yes, I would have and I can only imagine what I would have said because I wanted you so much in that moment."

Smiling through her tears, she whispered, "Story of our life…out of sync, not saying what we feel, not doing what we should be doing."

"That reminds me. You still haven't told me what you were doing when I called."

His question was timely considering the topic. "I was reading a pregnancy book. Which reminds me, have you gone shopping yet?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I was trying to decide if I wanted to or not."

Sitting up in bed, she asked, "If you were walking through the door right now what would you do?"

"I'd make love to you."

"Without having shopped?"

"Yes." He replied with confidence. "Because tonight I'm sure."

"Do you think you'll go shopping before you get home tomorrow evening?"

His voice faded. "I honestly don't know. Sometimes the littlest things make me have doubts and I find myself changing my mind."

"Story of our life." She wistfully said as she glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "I need to jump in the shower and start getting ready for shift."

"I love you, Sara."

"I know you do." She paused. "I'll uh…talk to you later, okay."

"Okay."

Clicking off the phone, she tossed it on the bed and sighed.

**Crime Lab  
****Break Room  
****9:50 p.m. **

"I'm sitting in the middle," Greg announced as he plopped between Catherine and Warrick. "The two of you can't be trusted to keep you hands off each other."

Catherine raised a brow. "I think you're hoping to get caught in the cross-fire."

Warrick and Greg exchanged unpleasant glances, and then Greg got up and sat in the chair across from the couch.

"So Sanders," Warrick asked, "why did you and Sara get to go out drinking with the big boss last night?"

"Yeah." Catherine kicked her feet up on the coffee table. "We were a little concerned by the timing. You, Sara and Brass spend the night at Lady's Heather's Deviant Dominion and then suddenly the three of you need to spend quality time together? Hmm."

Warrick nodded, "You got to admit it sounds a suspicious."

Greg laughed at the accusation. "Sorry to disappoint, but Brass wanted to celebrate my saving Sara's life. That's why we went out." While the Lady Heather jokes were fine between Sara and him, he vowed he'd never tell anyone else. Other details, however, were most definitely shareable. "It was quite a celebration too. We partied!"

Catherine replied, "You must have made for a very odd three-some, even by Vegas standards."

"Would have been really weird if you could have seen us all waking up at Grissom and Sara's house." Fondly, he recalled the slightly erroneous details for them, "Well, Brass left early but I got the full experience. It was really sweet. While I was in the shower, Sara made me breakfast. It was a little kinky too, because I had to wear Grissom's clothes, because Sara took mine earlier and they were nowhere to be found."

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Nice try. Now tell us what really happened."

"I vomited on myself before passing out on the bathroom floor, so I had to stay."

Warrick nodded. "So you really did take a shower. Sara really did take your clothes. And you really did have to wear Grissom's clothes."

"Yep."

"But Sara didn't make you breakfast," Catherine said.

"No that part was true too. She tried to bribe me with breakfast, so I wouldn't tell you about the phone-sex. However, since she only gave me a stale muffin, I'm spilling the beans."

"Look man…" Warrick shook his head. "You're lousy at fish tales. Why would you have to have phone-sex with her if you were there?"

"I _overheard _phone-sex, I didn't have it."

The door to the break room opened, and Nick walked in. "Hey peeps. Tonight's your lucky night. Brass is forcing me to pull a double watching over you clowns."

"Hey, you're just in time." Warrick motioned for him to join the discussion. "Greg was going to tell us about overhearing Sara's phone-sex with Grissom."

"Uh…no thanks, man." Nick headed for the coffee pot. "My ears are pure."

Catherine shot him a glare. "Oh please."

"Hit it, Greg." Warrick prodded.

Pulling a slip of paper out his shirt, he explained, "I wrote it down a few minutes after I heard it, so I wouldn't forget. I know I didn't get all of it, but it's close." After studying his notes he mimicked Sara's voice. _I'm soooo frustrated because I can't decide what naughty lingerie to wear. What do you think the boss would like? Not that I'll have it on for very long because the boss has a hard time controlling himself around me when I'm wearing lingerie, or red dresses, or nothing at all. So should I go for the lasciviously lacy La Perla or the sinfully sheer…_That's when she realized I was standing there gawking at her and she flipped out."

Across the room, Nick was laughing into his mug.

Catherine snapped, "Hey, Mr Purity, I thought you weren't going to listen?"

He was quick to explain. "I'm laughing, because there's no way Sara would talk like that. She's _way_ too uptight."

"You know what they say about the quiet ones." Greg grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Oh and her new nickname is Boom Boom Sidle, although she has no recollection why."

Warrick choked on his java. "How did you come up with that?"

"Boom Boom?" Nick took a seat with the group. "Okay, I'm hooked."

Greg bounced in his seat like a pubescent boy. "Sara was stumble-down drunk. In a fit of hysterical laughter, she tells us she can't hold her liquor like she used to, and being Sara, she feels compelled to prove her point by substantiating it with facts. She said, 'when I went to San Francisco, I got drunk, and before I knew it, I was stripping in the limo and by the time I was done, Grissom paid me five hundred bucks!'"

"Stripping?" Nick shook his head. "See, that's really too much to believe."

Catherine smiled proudly. "Hey, she learned from the best."

Greg could have exploded on the spot. "Are you telling me, that there was a moment in my universe when you and Sara were together doing the bump and grind?"

Catherine taunted him in a seductive voice, "How much would you have paid to watch that, Baby?"

Warrick warned, "I wouldn't answer that in front of me."

"Five hundred bucks for stripping?" Nick shook his head. "Well, Grissom has always been a generous tipper."

Greg immediately corrected the misperception. "Sara made it clear that a chunk of her earnings was from _services _rendered. Not just one service but _services_."

"Oh!" Nick covered his ears. "Now that's _way _too much information. It's like hearing about your parents doing it. Stop! My mind's eye needs a shower." He glanced at the clock. "And she's going to be here any minute. I'm going to have to look at her!"

In the middle of the ensuing laughter, Brass strolled in. "Good, I see everyone is working hard."

"Hey, we're not on the clock for thirty seconds," Catherine reminded him.

"Looks like Boom Boom is going to be late," Greg announced.

"Actually, Boom Boom called in sick."

"What!" Warrick choked on his coffee. "Sara has never called in sick, ever."

Brass shrugged. "She sound pretty stuffed up and tired but maybe she is hungover."

Catherine quickly offered an explanation. "Maybe her lack of clothes exposed her to the elements while she was rendering services and she caught a head cold."

Nick grumbled, "This conversation should be taking place in the locker room not the break room."

Brass's cell phone rang over the noise. Pulling it out of his pocket, he checked the number. "Well, I'd love to lounge in the gutter with you, but I'm an important man and I'm needed elsewhere. See you tomorrow."

Catherine yelled after him. "We know what's going on! Boom Boom can't put out because she's under the weather, so Grissom's calling you!"

**Colorado Springs Doubletree Hotel and Conference Center  
****Room 233  
10:18 p.m. MST**

Grissom sat in a chair on the balcony of his hotel room, staring blankly into the night sky while waiting for room service to bring the sandwich he ordered. His call with Sara had left him too introspective to cope with a group meal earlier, and although he still wasn't particularly hungry, he looked forward to the temporary distraction.

Since his conversation with Sara, his mind churned and he thought of nothing else but the missed opportunities they had confessed to one another. And when he wasn't thinking of that, he thought of the opportunity he was missing tonight due to geography…Sara in Vegas, him in Colorado, their minds together but their bodies not.

There was always tomorrow night, he assured himself, while knowing the statement wasn't necessarily true. Anything could happen to sway his decision. Something at the airport would trigger a doubt. Or during the car ride home he would see something to remind him of why he shouldn't take a risk. That's how it always happened. And as he sat there certain of his decision at the moment, he wondered, what fear would manifest itself and influence his vulnerable mind this time?

A knock on the door snapped him out of self-analysis, and after inhaling another dose of crisp night air, he got up to answer. "Just a minute," he called, not sure how long it had taken him to hear the knock.

When he opened the door, he was stunned to find Sara, not room service, standing in the hallway. Disbelief saturating his words, he asked, "How is it possible you're here?"

With hope in her eyes, Sara provided the details. "After we hung up, I called Brass and told him I needed a personal day. Then I hopped on the next flight to Colorado Springs." An anxious smile twittered across her lips. "After our conversation I decided I couldn't wait to see you."

Reaching out he caressed her cheek. "You're really here."

"I really am." Her voice quivered with anticipation as she asked, "But how's it going to go? Am I here cornering you at the wrong time, and you're going to tell me you don't know what to do about it? Or, are you standing there hoping I'll push the issue, while I wonder, if I kiss you, will you kiss me back?"

The answers to all of her questions were received not in words, but in the emotion of Grissom's embrace.

Joy bubbled in her declaration, "You're happy I'm here!"

"I'm thrilled you're here!" He excitedly replied, while squeezing her tighter. "After our call, I couldn't think of anything but you."

Just then the room service waiter appeared in the hall. Clearing his throat to get the delirious couple's attention, he announced, "Room 233. I have your dinner order."

Still in his arms and giddy from the moment, Sara laughed. "Couldn't think of anything but me, huh? Me and your stomach!"

"I…" Knowing Sara would really be turned off if she saw it was a roast _beef_ sandwich under the cover, he turned to the impatient hotel employee and said, "Sorry, you've got the wrong room number."

Rolling his eyes, the waiter walked away.

"Now where were we? You were concerned I wouldn't return your kiss." Unfortunately he was interrupted again.

"Hey Grissom!" Pete Downing, an entomologist from Cleveland, yelled from down the hall at the elevator. "Nice to know you have other interests than bugs! Bring her to breakfast tomorrow and I stand to make a hundred bucks from John and Doug, because four years ago, they bet me fifty each that you're a monk disguised as a scientist."

Taking Sara's hand, Grissom yanked her inside, and shut the door on the outside world. "I'll never hear the end of this tomorrow."

"Sorry." She squeaked. "I don't want to ruin your reputation."

"Are you kidding!" Taking her travel bag off her arm, he tossed it in a chair. "I can't wait to show you off and dispel all the rumors."

Leaning against the door, Sara enjoyed his happiness. "So…"

"So…"

Suddenly nervous about the task at hand, she giggled. "Wanna watch Bridget Jones Two?"

"Not particularly. No. How about we actually go a little further into the room?" Laughing he took her hand and joked. "Don't tell me you flew all this way, and now you're changing your mind? You were sure this is what you wanted. Now I'm sure. We're both in the moment. It's right, Sara." While savoring her with his eyes, he added, "Not to mention, you've been enticing me over the phone for three days to get me in the mood." Pulling her closer, he assured her further. "Honey, you were_ very_ effective at making me frustrated so you don't have to keep working at it. Trust me…I know what to do about this."

"No…no…that's not what I'm doing because it's obvious you're in the zone!" Squeezing his hand, she rambled her concerns. "It was different in the limo when I didn't know I was trying to…and could end up…" Dropping her head in her free hand, she groaned. "I can't say the words again. Oh god. This is pathetic. I have stage fright! I really want this, I_ really_ do but I'm…this could really happen…we could really make a…and suddenly I'm …it's the first time we're doing this to…"

"Do you need to talk Wallner lines?" He teased, "Because that really seemed to help you the other first time."

Returning her gaze to his, she smiled. "Please."

"Okay then." Cupping her face in his hands, he sweetly said, "Wallner lines are almost always concave in the direction from which the crack is propagating."

A radiant smile crested on her face. "Tell me…how can you determine the direction of the breaking force?"

While slipping his arms around her, he replied, "By observing the Wallner lines on radial cracks."

Her eyes fluttered shut. "Mmm"

"Do I have it right, Sara?" He whispered before trailing kisses down her neck.

"Yes…" She purred. "Review the 4R rule and I'll be fine…just fine."

"Ridges…on radial cracks…"

"Okay, 2 are enough," She breathlessly declared before claiming his mouth with a kiss…a kiss, which was eagerly returned.

* * *

_Next Episode: The Morning After _

_Teaser: It's time to for everyone to wake up and smell the coffee! Oh, and Sara gets ready for her debut in Bugworld._


	12. The Morning After

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

**Chapter 12: The Morning After**

As she lounged in bed watching him knot his tie, she realized last night's spontaneous decision was divine inspiration. Never before had she felt so free, so moved. From the moment she showed up at his door and their eyes met, she knew it would be a fantastic union, and it exceeded her expectations in _every _way.

Watching him move about the room she wished she could read his mind. He was so hard to read at times. Did he have regrets? There was a little hesitation in his voice this morning. Did he feel the intensity she felt? Physically for sure, but beyond that, did he make the spiritual connection she needed? Would it work? After just one night of trying it was too soon to tell, but she hoped beyond reason it would. With every fiber of her being she craved it, but would he change his mind? The thought frightened her and made her feel powerless.

As he approached the bed, she stiffened. Would this be the moment he'd say it wasn't going to happen again? That she shouldn't have come to him last night, and they shouldn't have fallen into bed without thinking things through more carefully?

Gently, he sat on the edge and, as he took her hand, she readied herself for disappointment. When she saw his mouth open, she knew he was about to speak his mind and looking him straight in the eyes, she listened.

"Would you like me to run around the corner to Starbucks and get you some tea, Heather?" Brass asked, as he sweetly tucked her hair behind her ear. "They don't have banana bread, but their crumb cake is pretty decent." Leaning closer, he whispered, "Then again, you were such a lady last night, perhaps you'd prefer a scone."

Last night. What a night. One minute he was standing in the break room shooting the breeze with the troops and the next he was answering Lady Heather's call…

"_Mr. Brass. It's Lady Heather." _

_He knew she'd call eventually, but was surprised it was so soon. "Are you ready to say the magic words?" He asked, without showing his delight. _

"_You were right about me…about what I need." _

"_Those would be the magic words." He chuckled into the receiver, as he darted into his office and shut the door. "A man never gets tired of hearing he's right." Dropping into his desk chair, he sighed. "So what do you need, Lady Heather?" _

"_Your address." Her voice was smooth. "You told me I didn't look good in green, and that black was getting boring. I'm wearing a new color tonight, Mr. Brass, and I wanted to get your opinion." _

"_Got a pen?" He had no idea where it would lead, but he was always ready for a journey, and was rather confident it would turn out to be a trip. _

_Later, when she showed up on his doorstep wearing a flowing dress, white as the driven snow, he found the irony exceptionally rousing. _

"_Do you like the new color, Mr. Brass?" She coyly asked, before curving her plump red lips into a demure smile. _

_He made no attempt to hide his raking gaze. "Does it match your mood tonight?" _

"_Yes." She took a step closer. "At the moment." She took another step. "And what's your color tonight, Mr. Brass?" _

"_At the moment, you can color me confused." Taking her hand, he said, "Would you like to come in and help me figure out my mood?" _

_Raising her brows she waited. _

_Remembering her penchant for manners, he rephrased the question. "**Please**, would you come in and help me figure out my mood?" _

"_Thank you," She warmly replied as she breezed by him, "Yes, I would." _

Then Brass remembered Lady Heather was diabetic. After all it was the detail that caused Grissom to suspect her of murder, so it was hard to forget. "A sugar-free scone of course."

"Very thoughtful." Her eyes sparkled.

"My gruff exterior, like yours, is something I can turn off at will." He paused to steal a kiss. "Sorry I have to leave so early but being a man of great power, I'm needed at the office."

Running the tip of her red fingernail over his cheek she remarked, "Does it feel good to be needed?"

"At the office?"

Pressing against him, she let the sheet she was wrapped in slip off her shoulder. "No. Outside of the office."

"Ahh." Wary, he studied her eyes. "A trick question. If I say yes, you have the power to take my good feeling away, and if I say no..."

"Then you take something away from me." With anticipation she waited to see how he would solve the conundrum.

"It feels good to be needed at the office because it feeds the greedy Alpha Male in me." After kissing her exposed shoulder, he said, "Outside of the office, I prefer to engage in mutual appreciation." He could tell by her smile, she approved of his answer.

"You are good for me."

"Yes." Smirking he left the bed. "Because I can handle you."

"You certainly did last night." She purred.

"More magic words." Heading to the bedroom door he chuckled. "See, you're good for me too."

"You were right, mutual appreciation is engaging."

At the door he asked, "So, what flavor tea fits your mood this morning?"

"I prefer coffee actually." Grinning she fell back against the sheets. "Tea is part of the act. The needy little boys find it charming."

"Another secret revealed." He flashed a smile. "So what flavor _coffee_ fits your mood this morning?"

"Sumatra."

"Intense."

"Exactly."

**Colorado Springs Doubletree Hotel and Conference Center  
****Room 233  
8:14 a.m. MST**

Standing against the wall wearing his blue plaid pajama bottoms and a grimace, Grissom snapped, "Come on, Sara. I can't believe you're changing your mind_ again_! You're driving me crazy!"

"I'm sorry, but I can't decide!" In the bed, she hid under the sheet. "Maybe if you would stop _pressuring _me I could think!"

Looming over her, he heatedly replied, "You know why I'm pressuring you!" Wrapping his fingers around the sheet, he yanked it off of her.

"Okay…okay, just give me two minutes." While she considered her options, she fiddled with the buttons on the borrowed black shirt of his she was wearing.

"That's it!" Having lost his patience, he straddled her, pinning her arms against the bed. "You have thirty seconds before I decide for you!"

"You sound _frustrated_," She choked out in between laughs.

"Yes! Because I'm _starving_!" He didn't join in her laughter. "First, I missed dinner, then I had to send my sandwich away. After that, I spent the rest of the night burning calories with you!" Finally cracking a smile, he informed her, "Don't you know the secret to any successful military operation is keeping the troops well nourished?"

"The problem is…I should have an omelet because I need the protein, but I'm craving pancakes!" Gasping, she joked, "I'm craving something. I'm pregnant!"

"Nice try." Snatching the room service menu from the bed, he laughed. "Please don't get your hopes up, because there's a good chance it won't work the first month. And if our attempts at procreation mirror our attempts at dating…my troops and your eggs are going to miss each other a few times before they get it right. On average it takes months and sometimes even a year."

"On this issue, can you be an optimist, instead of a biologist!" She playfully punched him in the gut. "Besides, what kind of leader are you? You have so little faith in your troops!"

"Oh, I'm not worried about my boys." He winked as he slipped out of bed. "I fear your eggs will play hard to get." Grabbing the phone, he announced his decision. "I'm ordering you pancakes _and_ an omelet."

"Because I'm eating for two?" She goaded.

"No." He dialed the room service code while rolling his eyes. "Because I'm tired of waiting for a decision and if you try to have your way with me again before I eat, I'll pass out. You're lucky I didn't last night!"

While he made the call, she relaxed against the sheets. Last night. What a night. One minute she was alone and depressed in Vegas. Five hours later she was with Grissom sharing the most intimate experience of her life…

_Their bodies still entwined under the sheets, Grissom softly stroked Sara's hair. "You've never looked more beautiful." _

"_It's the way I feel." Lovingly she gazed into his eyes while savoring the fresh flush of the ultimate intimacy they just experienced. "Knowing we were giving a part of each other and trying to create a life together. It was overwhelming. I can't describe it."_

"_You don't have to, because I was right there with you." He swept his lips over hers. "I love you, Sara. I didn't think I could feel closer to you but after tonight…"_

_Smiling with a warmth that matched the intensity of the heat still possessing her body, she summed it up by building on their favorite quote. "Love begins with a smile, grows with every kiss, and soars off the charts when you decide to make love to conceive for the first time." _

"_Yes." His words were interrupted by a series of slow, shivery kisses. "Sara, I'm glad it didn't work in San Francisco because we would have missed this experience."_

"_Mmm…" Holding him tighter, she murmured, "Don't let go yet." _

_They spoke while sweetly sharing Eskimo kisses. _

"_Are you nervous?" _

"_Aren't you?" _

"_Absolutely." _

"_For the same reason, I'm sure." An anxious laugh tumbled out of her mouth. "I'm nervous it worked and I'll have to move to being nervous about all those other things." _

"_But there's no turning back, right? San Francisco was accidental so it was normal to have doubts and okay to change our minds. Tonight was a mutual choice and now that we've made it, even if it doesn't happen tonight or this month or…"  
_

"_No matter what fears or doubts pop up we can't change our minds." Catching his eyes with hers, she tenderly said, "Can we make that a promise? Because we're not always good at making decisions but we've done very well keeping our promises." _

"_I promise." _

"_Me too." _

_They sealed their vow with a gentle kiss. _

_Finding comfort in his arms and the promise, Sara eased into a joke. "Will you promise to talk Wallner Lines when I'm in labor?" _

"_Of course." He chuckled. "But I won't be offended if you opt for pain medication too. I'm good but I'm not that good." _

_Shaking her head, she sighed, "I can't believe we just...a year ago we couldn't even look each other in the eyes and admit our feelings." _

"_What a difference a year makes." _

"_Or nine months." _

Sara's attention was pulled back to the moment when Grissom slipped into bed beside her. "Food will be here in twenty minutes."

"Will you survive?" She turned on her side to face him.

"If I don't, you can present the case study for me because you know it very well. It's the Shelton case."

"Really?"

Brushing her hair off her shoulder, he smiled. "I never told you how I realized the tightness of the blanket Kaye Shelton was wrapped in was the answer to the mystery. It was all because of you."

"What did I do?" She asked in a surprised tone.

"You asked me to sleep with you."

"I didn't mean sex!"

"I know." Thinking back to the moment he laughed. "Although at the time you shocked the hell out of me because that's what I thought you meant, until you clarified your point."

"So how did that help you rethink the case?"

"You said you wanted me to sleep with you so when you woke up under the blanket in a cold sweat I'd be there." A guilty grin blanketed his face. "Even though it was totally inappropriate considering we were discussing a case…a homicide no less, I couldn't help but think of you and me in bed together under the blanket you mentioned, and me holding you tight to comfort you."

A smile erupted on Sara's face. "Blanket…holding me tight…tight blanket."

"Sometimes it's the strangest things that solve a case."

Suddenly feeling playful, she straddled him. "How many other cases did you solve when you were thinking about sleeping with me?"

"I can only think of one other." He replied.

"I was kidding!" A riotous laugh followed. "There was another?"

"Hey, what counts is that they are solved not how you get there!"

A knock on the door brought the laughter to an end.

"My food!" Grissom tossed Sara aside and grabbed a nearby t-shirt, quickly pulling it on.

"So much for women and children first." Following him out of bed, she couldn't deny she was starving too. "Did you order orange juice?"

"You never mentioned orange juice. However I knew you wanted it so I did." Grissom opened the door, but was disappointed to find Don Pratt, an Entomologist from Miami, standing there gawking at Sara who was only wearing the borrowed black button down shirt.

"So it's true." Don nodded. "Pete told me you had a girl in here but I didn't believe him."

Sara, forgetting she was only half-clothed, extended her hand. "I'm Sara. Nice to meet you."

"And it's_ very_ nice to meet you." His eyes dropped to her exposed thighs.

"Oh!" Dashing behind Grissom, she cringed.

Grissom, on the other hand, stood confidently and said, "Do you owe Pete fifty bucks, too?"

"Don't take this the wrong way but…" Don, one of the wise-guy bug-guys, said, "She's uh…quite a looker, not to mention much younger than you, so before I cough up a fifty to Pete, how can I be sure she's not…on loan…if you catch my drift."

"What?" Grissom snapped.

"Does he think I'm a hooker! Oh my god! I'm not a hooker!" Sara yelped from behind. "Look!" She thrust her left hand forward. "I'm his wife!"

Grissom spun around, his eyes wide. "Sara…Bug world is a small world."

"You're married!" Don smacked his hands together. "Awesome! Vince owes me a hundred bucks! He swore you were celibate and would never marry anything but your work. We made that bet three years ago after Cathy asked you out for a drink and you turned her down saying you had too many journals to read in your room!"

"Who is Cathy?" Sara teased, as she poked Grissom in the ribs.

Don replied, "Forensic Entomologist from Dallas. She's here at the conference. She had a crush on Gil but alas, he broke her heart by not giving her the time of day."

When the room service waiter rolled his cart to a halt, Don waved. "I'll leave you to enjoy your breakfast." As he walked away, he yelled back. "It was nice meeting you Mrs. Grissom."

Sara gasped. "Now that sounds so…weird!"

Grissom dropped his head in his hands. "By the time we make it downstairs they'll be buzzing like a bunch of Bombus Terrestris." While he obsessed over the scene surely to follow, he tuned out everything else.

"Who is signing the bill?" The waiter droned.

"I will. He doesn't have his glasses on." Sara grabbed it and taking the pen out of the waiter's hand, without thinking, she signed, _Sara Grissom_. "Why did I..." Laughter overcame her. "Why am I so giddy about this? I feel like I'm in high school and trying out my boyfriend's name for size. Not that I had a boyfriend in high school."

The waiter, replied, "You would have had a boyfriend if you walked around wearing only that shirt in high school."

"Oh!" After shoving the bill at him, she ran inside the room.

The waiter informed Grissom, "In her hasty departure, she only signed; she didn't leave me a tip."

"Huh? Oh…sorry." Grissom, not having his reading glasses on him, said, "Just fill it in yourself."

The waiter gladly did as he was instructed, then wheeled the food cart into the room, and set up the trays on the sitting area table. "Thank you and have a good day, Sir." The waiter supplied a completed copy of the bill.

"You too." Once the waiter and cart were out the door, Grissom knocked to alert Sara. "Coast is clear."

Ravenous with hunger, she bolted out of the bathroom. "What took so long?" She dashed to the table and started ripping off lids.

"You forgot to tip him and he wasn't leaving without one, which reminds me." Grabbing his glasses from the dresser, Grissom thought he should check the amount of the tip. "Sara?" His eyes narrowed as he stared at the piece of paper.

Pouring syrup over her pancakes, she replied, "Sorry, I couldn't wait. The zygote is hungry."

"Thank you for being scientifically accurate when you're fantasizing, Honey." Then he extended the check. "Now care to explain this?" He pointed to the signature line. "Sara Grissom?" When he said the two names together it triggered several conflicting feelings.

"Your bug buddy, Don, remember?" She plopped into a chair and grabbed her fork. "He called me Mrs. Grissom right before the waiter handed me the check so, when I signed it, I signed Sara Grissom." Saying the name out loud sent her mind wandering.

Removing his glasses and tossing them on the table, Grissom took a seat across from her and pondered the foreign name while munching through a couple of pieces of toast.

Sara, having breezed through half a stack of pancakes, started working on her veggie omelet while contemplating the Freudian-slip significance of signing the name. A while later, when she realized they had both polished off a significant amount of food with nary a word, she said, "Do we need to talk about the bill? The name?"

Setting down his empty glass, Grissom sat back and rubbed his hand over his chin while trying to decide what to say.

"I know that look."

"I thought we were content with the way things are…that we don't need social conventions."

"I am!" Standing up, she walked around the table and slipped into his lap. "I don't need anything else."

He threw his arm across her. "Plus we can't unless…"

"I know! Stop looking at me like I'm trying to force this topic." She kissed his cheek. "The name was in my head when I had the pen in my hand that's all." After a brief pause, she said, "But…"

"I knew there was a 'but' coming."

"But after I saw it and said it, it got me thinking. Is it fair to the baby? Should things be legal for the baby?"

"I knew you were going to say that." He sighed. "Because that's what popped into my head."

"This is so ironic because our 'marriage of true minds' got us thinking about a baby and now that we're trying to have a baby, the baby has us thinking of marriage." She smiled. "We don't _need_ a legal marriage. It's just logic and convenience talking, you know…baby Grissom, the Grissoms, the kid going to school and having to explain different names, the conservative parents whispering about the unmarried parents of little Grissom who works nights and collect bugs. Who cares about gossip and convention? We don't need to get caught up in all that."

Gawking at her, he announced, "Do you have _any_ idea how much you're vexing me with all this?"

"Sorry!" She chuckled. "I thought I was helping."

"No. You aren't." Shaking his head, he groaned. "On one hand you're reminding me that, _The Grissoms_, were a poster-family of dysfunction, and on the other hand you're reminding me that, _Little Grissom_, meaning me, had a lot of explaining to do as a child and it wasn't easy and it certainly didn't help me fit in." His speech quickened. "Then, there is the surreal sound of you being called, _Mrs. Grissom_, when the only person ever called that was my mother. And if that wasn't enough…on top of all that, you're reminding me of the_ huge_ step we took last night, and suddenly the reality is catching up with me. Having a child, raising a child, schooling a child, dealing with other parents…trying to fit in…"

"You don't regret…"

"No! No, of course not." Anxiety fueled a laugh. "But that doesn't preclude me from having a panic attack!"

A knock on the door interrupted the breakdown.

Sara slid off his lap. "Geez! These bug freaks are a nosy bunch!"

"Please put on some pants this time." He advised while attempting to lower his pulse with slow, deep breaths.

After pulling on her jeans, Sara peered through the peephole. "Aww! How thoughtful of you, Honey!"

Slouched in his chair, Grissom thought, what did I do?

Opening the door, she smiled, "You sent me flowers." Taking them from the hotel clerk, she said, "Thanks."

Confused enough already, Grissom didn't need any more oddities. "I didn't send you flowers. How could I? I didn't even know you were coming here to see me, and you've been with me the whole time."

Walking into the sitting area with the vase of red roses, Sara saw the two cards attached to the vase…one small one labeled, 'Bug Boy' and a larger one labeled, 'Boom Boom'. Shaking her head, she could only imagine what the notes would say. "Brass sent them." Plucking off the Bug Boy note, she handed it to Grissom. "I assume this one is yours because I know the one labeled Boom Boom is mine."

"Boom Boom?" Grissom took his envelope while eyeing Sara suspiciously. "And why exactly is he calling you that?"

"I have no idea! Ever since we went drinking, Greg and Brass are calling me Boom Boom, and I don't know why. Greg told me it's about something I said but he wouldn't elaborate." After placing the flowers on the desk and removing her card, she took a seat at the table. "Read yours first. Out loud."

Retrieving his glasses, he asked, "What reason did you give Brass for taking the night off?"

"I told him I had a cold."

When he opened the card, Grissom saw a folded paper tucked inside. "He faxed letters to the flower shop? The man really needs a personal life."

_Bug boy,_

_How was the bug-conference booty call? Don't expect to expense breakfast in bed! _

Grissom glanced at Sara. "I guess you weren't too convincing when you told him you were sick." Then he continued.

_Aren't I thoughtful? Now you have flowers to give her. By the way they cost eighty bucks. You can pay me when you get back. In case Sara actually ran off to meet someone else, please disregard the above, and when you return, I'll buy you a few rounds. _

_Sincerely, _

_Your Hero_

_P.S. You don't deserve her! _

"Aww…yes, you do." Sara mused, as she opened her card. "My turn."

_Boom Boom (do you know why I'm calling you that yet?)_

She paused to yell, "No!"

_How's your cold? When I called to check up on you around nine, you weren't home (shocking), so I did some investigating._

_Sara Sidle – America West Flight 6607 – Seat 14c_

_You forget, in my powerful position, I have access to flight information. _

_Nice try. The one time you play hooky in your life, you get busted. I'm afraid I'm going to have to report your insubordination to your supervisor so he can reprimand you for being so naughty. Oh wait…I just remembered, you guys are into that stuff._

_Sincerely, _

_The All-Knowing One_

_P.S. Can you take some pictures at the conference because I'm dying to know what these insect-crazed individuals look like, and what they do at these freak shows? Remember that Star Trek convention in Vegas, when we had to process that wackjob dressed as some furry alien dude? Is it similar? Is everyone wearing antennas while doing some intricate beetle handshake? Hmm, after witnessing Grissom in his element, you may rethink the desire to gestate his offspring. _

"Too late!" Sara laughed. "Son of Bug Boy has been spawned!"

Throwing his cloth napkin at her, Grissom had to join her laughter. "So not only did it work on the first night, you're sure it's a boy."

"I want it to be a boy." She confirmed.

"I want it to be a girl."

"How shocking…we're not on the same page."

Curious, he asked, "Why do you want it to be a boy?"

"Same reason you want it to be a girl. Which is…"

"I don't want to deal with the psychological ramifications of reliving the screwed up same-gender parent-child relationship of my own childhood."

Sinking in her chair, she replied, "It's good to know we're at least in sync when it comes to being mental."

And while they pondered the complex issue weighing heavy on their already taxed brains, the room phone rang.

Happy for the break in concentration, he grabbed the call. "Grissom."

"It's Catherine," She announced.

"What's going on?" He looked over at Sara and saw her mouthing. 'I didn't tell her I was coming.'

Catherine's voice was flooded with concern. "I don't want to alarm you but…I'm worried. We all are."

"We?" He put the phone on speaker so Sara could hear.

"Warrick, Greg, Nick and I. We just finished shift and went to your house to bring Sara some breakfast and she didn't answer. We've also tried calling and paging, but no luck. I thought maybe she went to the doctor's but her car is still at the station where she left it when she went out in the taxi with Brass and Greg. I'm sorry if I'm alarming you but we're just looking out for her with you out of town. Have you heard from her since last night?"

Sara and Grissom were both moved by the outpouring of concern and he finally admitted in an appreciative tone, "Thank you, Catherine, but please don't worry. Sara is here with me."

"Duh! Like we didn't figure that out after she didn't answer her phone when we called her last night!" Catherine burst out laughing as Greg yelled into the phone, "Boom Boom took her show on the road!"

Sara looked at Grissom. "Did you fall for this same kind of crap in high school and college?" She groaned. "I always did."

He shrugged. "People didn't care I existed in high school, so they didn't waste their time pulling crap on me."

Catherine's voice boomed through the speaker. "See, you should be flattered! We care enough to give large doses frequently."

Having reached her limit on the nickname, Sara demanded an answer. "Ask Sanders to tell me why he's calling me Boom Boom."

Catherine obliged, "Okay hold on. I'll put my phone on speaker because we all want to know. Okay, Greg, what's up with the ridiculous nickname?"

Sara and Grissom listened intently.

Greg started. "A few clues for you to piece together. Some people leave their heart there."

Sara was proud to beat Grissom to the punch. "San Francisco!"

Greg acknowledged her with a 'ding ding. "Next one. The preferred mode of transportation on prom night."

Catherine interrupted. "I think we have to give them that one because they both sat home. That one is limo."

Greg gave the next three in a row. "My current girlfriend's profession. You can get arrested for selling it on the Strip. It's half of a grand."

Grissom recapped, "San Francisco, limo, Tawny is a stripper…"

"Oh no!" Sara covered her mouth. "I told them _that_!"

"Yeah." Grissom cringed. "I don't think he's talking about selling fireworks illegally on the strip and I'm pretty confident I got the math problem right."

And while the squeamish couple, dealt with the reality, Catherine readied her co-conspirators for a pre-arranged, Paul Lekakis, eighties flashback number. "Sing it with me boys!"

"Boom-boom-boom, let's go back to my room, so we can do it all night, and you can make me feel right.. oh oh oh! Boom-boom-boom…"

Grissom disconnected the call and nonchalantly asked, "Still worried about hanging with the bug freaks, Honey? I think it might be time to make some new friends. Friends who don't know about your checkered past."

To which she replied, "Do you know how the witness protection program works?"

* * *

_Next Episode: Bugged - Part 1_

_Teaser: There are so many ways to be bugged…_


	13. Bugged Part 1

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

"**Bugged – Part 1"**

**July 27, 2005 (Day 96)  
****Colorado Springs Doubletree Hotel and Conference Center  
****Room 233  
9:12 a.m. MST**

Grissom, dressed for the day in khakis and a short-sleeve denim shirt, stood in the doorway of the bathroom watching Sara style her hair. She looks radiant, he thought. But I can't tell her. If I tell her, she'd interpret it as proof of a pregnancy glow. Not that I don't want it to be true. On the contrary, I want our little project to be a success as much as her but someone has to be the voice of reason and it's not going to be her so it will have to be me.

Lost in her beauty, he couldn't take his eyes off of her. She looks so different this morning…so vibrant. It reminds me of the first time I saw her at Berkeley. I wanted her then and I want her now…right now. Damn we have to be downstairs in fifteen minutes. If didn't have to be downstairs I would…

"Are you just going to stand there gawking at me or are you going to say something?"

Instead of mentioning her glow or his mounting desire, he opted for a joke. "You're really going all out this morning, Boom Boom. Are you working today?"

"As a matter of fact yes." Finished manipulating her curls, she picked up her mascara. "My most demanding client has decided to parade me around at a bug convention and I have this sneaking suspicion some of his colleagues will be studying me like an ant under a magnifying glass. Hence the extra effort." After coating her left lashes, she moved on to the right. "Do you think he'll approve of my outfit? I wasn't planning on being on display when I packed." Only intending on having fun, not attending his lecture, she was concerned it was a little too casual for the professional setting.

"Dress code on the last day is always relaxed because it's a travel day. The whole atmosphere is laid back. You'll see, some people even wear shorts." Reviewing her appearance, he added, "Personally I appreciate those cute jeans and what do you call that kind of shirt?"

Getting in the Entomological spirit she answered in technical form. "Its scientific name is a chiffon camisole shell. It is of the family, sleeveless shirts. Its coloring is blush pink and its common name is sexy little thing." Sara laughed. "I only know the technical name because Carrie was shopping with me when I bought it. That girl is a fashion nut. When Nick marries her one day, she's going to spend his money like water."

Finding her comment amusing, he teased, "Hey, Pot! Before you call the kettle black, answer this for me. Who bought that sexy little thing you're wearing?"

"I did." Knowing she was busted, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. "But, you paid the bill when it came in the mail. Point taken. In my defense though, and you know this, I put most of my money last month into my philanthropic backpack project so when I went to buy this shirt..."

"I was joking, Sara. I wouldn't have given you the credit card if I didn't want you to use it and it's not like you spend a fortune. Besides, what's mine is yours." He grinned. "Isn't that obvious after last night? I gave you everything I had."

"Don't worry; I'll give it back in nine months."

"Sounds fair."

Holding her lipstick, she commented, "Do you think it's weird we don't have a financial system? I mean most married people probably have…"

Trepidation accompanied his reply. "Are we going down this road again?" Ever since the _Sara Grissom_ thing had come up an hour ago, it was on his mind…along with that ridiculous Boom Boom Boom song.

"My comment had nothing to with the Sara Grissom thing if that's what you're thinking!" She huffed. "That was a silly slip, not a desperate plea for you to make an honest woman out of me when I'm pregnant. Oh great, now you're going to think…"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Now it sounded like she felt cheapened by their arrangement. "Is something bugging you?"

His choice of verb diffused her tension. "Is something _bugging_ me?"

He relaxed with her. "You can take the boy out of the Entomology conference but…"

"They are two separate issues…commitment and finances." Leaning against the counter she lowered her head and defined her insecurity. "How do you think our financial and living arrangement appears to outsiders since we're not legally married? When two people are married and the woman lives in an expensive house her husband bought and spends his money, she's called a wife. Where does that leave me? Look at the jokes Catherine and the guys make about me being a 'kept woman'. I know they're kidding but you know the proverb…many a true word is spoken in jest. While the people closest to us know the truth, other people who don't, may think otherwise."

Stepping into the bathroom, he placed his hand under her chin and lifted her gaze to his. "You never told me you felt this way before. It was never my intention to make you feel…"

"I know. And I didn't mention it before because it never _bugged_ me before now." Again the anxiety evaporated with the play on words. "It was a combination of things this morning toying with my mind, that's all, and yes…one of them was the Mrs. Grissom thing. It's ridiculous. Ignore me." A forced smile emerged. "I blame the pregnancy hormones."

"The house is _ours_. It's ours legally on paper, and in spirit. You're not my guest, Sara." Taking her hand he gave it a squeeze. "I provided the money but you turned the house into a home."

Feeling silly, she sighed. "Like I said, it was a momentary lapse of insecurity, not about you and me, but about how other people perceive me. The strange is, I never cared what people thought but now that we're bringing a child into the equation…I'm over thinking, this just forget it."

Hoping to joke her out of her funk, he said, "If it will make you feel better, you can pay the electric bill."

"Are you kidding?" Laughing, she slid her arms around his waist. "I'd need to ask the boss for a raise to afford our electric bill during the summer."

"Just so we're clear, I buy you things, not to keep you around, but to make up for all the gifts I didn't give you over the years." He wound his arms around her waist. "Remember the Entomology text I gave you that first Christmas you were in Vegas?"

"Yes." At the time it was the best Christmas she had in years and his gift was cherished.

"When I was searching your apartment during the Tahoe nightmare, I saw that book and realized I never gave you another personal gift in the four years following because I was too afraid it would trigger a feeling or start a relationship. Think of all those holidays and birthdays and anniversaries we should have been celebrating." Tenderly he kissed her. "So I spoil you. I think you earned it for putting up with me all those years."

"Battle pay?"

"Exactly." He stole another kiss. "Are we okay about this?"

"When we go downstairs, I'll go shopping in the gift shop, charge it to you, and let you know if it _bugs_ me."

From her smile he knew they were fine. "Speaking of bugs. We've got five minutes."

"Hey, when you were packing to leave for this trip you told me there were cliques. How about giving me a breakdown? Like how you told me about the opera so I knew what to expect."

Leaning against the door frame, he attempted to explain the complex structure. "Well, there are two classifications…the professional and the social. The professional hierarchy is based strictly on accomplishment in Forensic Entomology. At the conference, there are also students and non-forensic entomologists in attendance, but they are the bottom feeders only here to dabble. You know, all those forensic crime dramas on TV get people interested, so they come to check out the field." Huffing he folded his arms across his chest. "As if those TV shows paint a realistic picture of what we do."

"Those shows are hilarious." In between lipstick applications, Sara inquired, "So, where are you on the food chain?"

"Professionally?" He grinned. "Top five in the country. At this conference, because the top three aren't here, Pete, who you met in the hallway last night, and I have the highest ranking."

"So, I'm the special guest of the top bug geek. That sounds so much better than prom queen." After blotting her lips, she turned to Grissom. "Now tell me about the social structure."

"It's a microcosm of the real world…married, single, partiers, gossipers, the usual stuff, the only difference is we know an Orthoptera from an Odonata."

"Which is exactly what classifies you as bug geeks." She laughed. "Anyone I should avoid?"

"Marge Andrews, the queen of gossip."

"Anyone I should meet?" She gave a light chuckle. "Well, I definitely want to meet Cathy so we can compare notes on how it felt to ask you out and get shot down mercilessly."

"I think she's over it, because she informed me on Monday that she married a cop named Luis, whom she met at a crime scene." Recalling the moment, he added, "She also made a point of telling me he was much younger and hotter than me."

"Them's fightin' words." Finished with her beautification process, Sara drifted by Grissom to find her black mules in the bedroom. "I'm going to have to kick her ass for that."

"I'm flattered." He followed her into the bedroom grinning.

"Oh yeah…Cathy and I are going to go at it like two Ceruchus Piceus!" Crawling on the floor, Sara found one of her shoes.

"Very good choice…stag beetles are quite territorial and vicious." Joining her on the expedition, Grissom kneeled and lifted the bed skirt to search for the matching shoe. "How did you know that?"

"Oh please." Facing him she cocked her head. "Do you have _any_ idea how many times I read that Entomology book you gave me?"

**Las Vegas Crime Lab**

**Jim Brass's Office**

**8:34 PST**

Coffee mug in hand, Nick reported for his regular Wednesday morning status meeting with the boss. "Sorry I'm late." He took a seat in one of Brass's side chairs. "Had to wrap up a few things from the night shift."

"Did it make you misty hanging with the old crew?" Brass settled back in his chair.

"It was really comfortable." He sighed. The Day Shift Supervisor position, although he loved the challenge professionally, was a hard adjustment. "Very different group of people on Days sometimes I feel like the enemy."

"They're all Ecklie minions and you were with me when we busted Ecklie. You are the enemy. However, you'll win them over eventually." Brass sipped his coffee. "You're doing a good job rehabbing them, but Rome wasn't built in a day remember? They've been programmed for years to be uptight, political, Ecklie kiss-asses. And when Ecklie was promoted he brought in that carbon-copy friend of his from San Diego and messed them up even more."

"I was thinking," Nick's smile took a devious turn. "How about I move one of my people to Nights so Grissom doesn't have to hire anyone, and then I can bring in some new blood on Days?"

"Budget's frozen temporarily, so we can't hire, but who did you have in mind?"

"Sofia Curtis."

"No way in hell is that going to happen." Jim burst out laughing. "Can you imagine Catherine working with Sofia? Sorry my boy, one diva per shift is the department rule."

"I had to try. She bugs the hell out of me! Oh…that's kind of unprofessional to say."

Brass laughed it off. "I wasn't listening."

Nick lifted his mug. "Aren't you in a cheery mood this morning, boss? Have another adventurous night on the town? Greg told us about your favorite hang out…the Lunar Lounge. Sounds stellar."

"What do you think? I party every night?" Adjusting his tie, Brass informed Nick of the cold hard truth. "Nah, I'm an old man. I went home and spent the entire night in bed."

**Colorado Springs Doubletree Hotel and Conference Center**

**9:40 a.m. MST**

Side by side, walking down the hallway towards the banquet room, Sara and Grissom could hear the buzz of Entomologists chatting over pre-meeting coffee like bees around a honey pot.

"I'm going to make like a moth and blend into the background." Sara informed her mate as they rounded the corner to the gathering area. "If you need me, signal me with your antenna."

That's when they heard it…utter silence.

Noticing one hundred sets of eyes bearing down on Sara, Grissom whispered, "I, uh…think blending may be a little more difficult than you imagined."

A minute later there was a flurry of activity as wallets were pulled out and money exchanged.

Marge Andrews, a fifty year old forensic entomologist from Boston and the quintessential gossip of the group, was the first to make contact with the foreign species presenting itself. "You must be Sara Grissom," Marge excitedly announced while extending her hand. "We've heard _a lot_ about you in the last hour." And while she analyzed the creature she thought…Pete was right, she has to be _at least_ fifteen, maybe twenty years younger than Gil and could she be any _thinner_! Suddenly, a glint caught her eye…what a stunning diamond band on her hand. That ring was a prize alright, and not from a Cracker Jack box.

Sara could hear Grissom's anxiety rising at the mention of _the name_ and she rushed to fix the situation. "Actually, it's Dr. Sara Sidle." Smiling warmly, she returned the handshake.

The term doctor surprised Marge. Everyone had assumed Grissom's secret wife, since she wasn't a reclusive nerd, was a vapid gold digger who had exploited the man's need for companionship. "MD or Ph.D?"

"Ph.D, Physics, Berkeley."

Marge couldn't argue with those credentials. "And what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a CSI for the Las Vegas Police Department."

Marge turned to the small group forming behind her. "Hey! She's one of us!" Relieved that they weren't being infiltrated by a non-scientific bimbo, Marge softened. "Bugs or blood?"

"Blood, but I'm getting used to the bugs."

Sara listened to the buzz build beyond her and at one point, she swore someone said, 'And you thought she was a hooker!'.

Grissom, on the other hand, stood back and enjoyed the looks on the other guys' faces, knowing his days as a monk disguised as a scientist were definitely over. He particularly savored Ron Grant's envious expression.

Ron is the ladies man of the group, and always one to cut other, less socially successful guys down. On Monday night at the group dinner, Ron had tossed out a particular cutting round of comments but now it was obvious Ron was stunned and perhaps jealous. Grissom's grin broadened. Take a good look, Ron. She's mine.

Suddenly he understood Sara's erratic behavior in San Francisco a little better. It did feel good to be socially normal for once. There was no denying it was a base emotion but nevertheless, Grissom indulged it. As a scientist he couldn't deny the basic principles of human nature and as a human being he couldn't deny he had a primitive side. Yes, for once he wasn't just the smartest guy in the room. He was the smartest guy with a _life_ and that life included an intelligent, witty and gorgeous girl! Oh yeah…take that, Ronny.

"Conference room is open," The hotel employee announced.

Reluctantly the crowd stopped gawking and started filing into the room.

"We'll talk more later," Marge informed her as she moved away, taking her groupies with her and leaving Sara and Grissom alone.

Sara turned to Grissom and saw for the first time the delighted look on his face. "Hey, Sugar Daddy," She teased, "it's me, your trophy wife. You're enjoying this so much it's _bugging_ me."

Kim Trang, the conference coordinator approached. "Dr. Grissom, your presentation materials are ready for you to review and the podium is set. Here is your nametag for the day and one for your wife. You have twenty minutes. Is there anything else you need?"

Sara stared at the tag. Written in bold green letters was the name, Sara Grissom. "He may need some oxygen." Chuckling, she shoved the nametag in her purse.

"Oxygen?" Kim gasped.

When she noticed Kim's panicky assumption that something horrible was about to happen and ruin her perfectly orchestrated conference, Sara quickly corrected, "I meant water…for the podium. Water…oxygen…I get those scientific terms mixed up sometimes."

When Kim dashed off to check the water supply, Grissom postured. "Hey, Pot! Two words for you…Miranda Anderson. Who set this precedent? I was your Shakespeare-quoting, distinguished gentleman before you were my trophy wife."

"Quid pro quo? Is that what this is?" Laughing, Sara once again knew she was busted. "So you want me to work the crowd, maybe charm the men with my knowledge of decaying corpses?"

"In a word…yes." Grinning, he walked away, "Now if you'll excuse me, my public awaits."

"Oh, Dr. Grissom," Sara called after him, and then approached. "If you recall…to make up for your outstanding effort in San Francisco, I danced for you that night. I'm going to require a similar payment this evening."

Choking on the words, he said, "I doubt you'd find my dance performance enjoyable. As a matter of fact, I'm positive it would make you rethink procreating with me."

"I said a _similar_ payment." Leaving him wondering, she walked behind him and seductively whispered, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a lecture to listen to, and I don't want to miss any of it, because I think the presenter is an intellectual genius and I'm hot for his brain. Gee…I hope he won't be able to tell I'm crushing on him out in the audience because I will be. Who am I kidding? He won't notice me because I'm just a wannabe student hoping he'll teach me a thing or two."

"You got that right; I'm impervious to your school-girl charms." He cracked. "So get moving, Sidle."

When Sara entered the meeting room alone, she decided to try her moth-like strategy. Fading to the far corner of the room, she took a seat at an empty table. Since she was one of the last ones inside, she hoped it would stay empty.

A minute later, Sara saw Grissom enter and take his place in the front of the room. There he stood, reviewing his presentation materials and chatting with some colleagues, while the group settled down in their respective seats. Just like at Berkeley, she found herself crushing on him from the audience. Of course she knew it was related to the intimacy they shared the night before, not reliving a silly co-ed fantasy. Her focus slipped to last night's intense love making and before she knew it, she was twisting the cap off a bottle of water provided on the table and taking a gulp. It was July she reminded herself, that's why it was so hot in the room. Yeah, right.

While Sara was lost in the moment, a co-ed wearing her auburn hair in two low ponytails plopped down beside her. "Hey." The girl, wearing a UCLA t-shirt knotted at the hip and denim shorts, tossed her binder on the table. "No one was sitting here, right?"

"Uh…" Sara snapped out of her daze. "No."

"Cute camisole. That's a great color on you. I have one just like it in blue." The girl whispered. "Were you here the last two days? I don't recognize you."

"No, I just flew in for today." Sara found the experience amusing because when she first arrived at Harvard for her freshman year, girls like this one…Misty Carson, according to her conference nametag…was exactly the kind of girl, cool and confident, who wouldn't have given her the time of day.

"Too bad. You missed a hell of a night last night. Ron Grant planned this thing at this bar. There were about twenty of us. Totally fun. I'm hurting this morning though, one too many drinks. That and a severe lack of sleep." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I hooked up with this guy from Tampa. His name is Scott. He's over there in the black shirt…" She grabbed Sara's arm. "Don't look. Don't look! He's looking right at us."

"I'm not looking." Sara chuckled at the girl's giddiness thinking, how cute, she's twitter painted. She could relate.

"He's a professor at UCLA." Misty giggled. "This is his t-shirt. I know what you're going to say…he's too old for me."

Suddenly very curious, Sara searched the room for Scott in the black shirt. "Uh…how old is he?"

"Thirty-five. I just turned twenty-one."

"Let's see that's…"

"You too huh? My friends are always making fun of me for dating older guys." She wrinkled her nose. "You think it's too much of a difference?"

Sara finished her sentence. "Fourteen years? Nah." Her eyes turned from Scott to Grissom. "It's fine. As long as you're intellectually and socially well matched, age is irrelevant."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience. Have you dated any of your professors?" She giggled. "It's okay, you're in good company. I kind of have this thing for professors."

Sara found the girl's candor alarming. "Uh…we don't even know each other, don't you think you're sharing a lot of information?" Another reason she stayed far, far away from girls like Misty in college. They always wanted to share.

Actually in addition to the awkward overshare and obvious prying, the truth was, Sara was annoyed at the girl's question. Annoyed because it brought back memories she'd rather forget and had blocked for a long time. Memories relating once again to Harvard, and the 'looking for love in all the wrong places years'. Specifically, partner number five…Professor of Organic Chem, number seven…Professor of Sociology, and number nine…Professor of Art History. All in their thirties while she was eighteen…nineteen and a ripe old, twenty. And while Sara didn't want to share anything with Misty, she didn't mind prying. "Um…why do you like dating professors?"

Leaning closer to her new pal, Misty was more than happy to explain her predilection for professorial partners. "Bottom line…they're smart enough for me. I know that sounds like I'm really full of myself but hey, we're all smart or we wouldn't be at this conference, right? Where did you go undergrad?"

"Harvard."

"Very nice." Misty nodded in approval. "I'm at Stanford. But back to your original question, apart from their intellect, they know how to treat a girl like a lady. The dates are much more sophisticated because they appreciate finer things. There's the stability angle…they have jobs, money and experience. Most of all, I like how they take care of me, rather than looking to see what I can do for them all the time." She winked. "Not that I don't take care of them." Misty tossed a ponytail off her shoulder. "I know, I know, what would Freud say?" She laughed. "Oh, and I forgot another important detail…they buy much better gifts. Check out this Tiffany bracelet." She dangled it in front of Sara's nose. "It's a keeper."

Up until that last part, Sara was feeling better about the conversation. "Um…we should really stop talking because the presentation is going to start soon and I want to review my notes."

Misty turned her attention to the front of the room. "Yeah, this guy, Dr. Grissom, he's a great presenter. Scott said he's the smartest guy here. Apparently he's kind of a loner though. You know, one of those guys who is a little _too_ into his job, if you know what I mean. There's a few of them like him at this conference."

Sara relaxed. Finally something good to ponder…Grissom's superior intellect and his quirkiness, which she always found strangely appealing. In silence, she chided the young co-ed. Nothing wrong with being into the job, being a little obsessed with one's work and oh by the way Misty…he's got a few other _really_ good qualities that I'm not going to share with you. Once again, she was happily crushing on her man from the back of the room.

Misty nudged Sara. "But…he's kind of handsome for an old dude, don't you think? I mean WAY too old for us, but still…there's something about him that kind of attracts me to him. See…it's the professor thing. I'm so bad!" Giggling she said, "I should really go to therapy!"

She wasn't sure which was more disturbing, the fact that perky little twenty-one year old Misty was checking out Grissom _or_ that she had just declared him _an old dude_. "Um…how old do you think he is?"

"He's got to be pushing the big five-o." She shrugged. "My dad just turned forty-seven and they look about the same age." Yet another disturbing thought. Grissom was older than Misty's dad, which would make Grissom old enough to have a child Misty's age. Then she did the math. Grissom could have been making kids for over _thirty years_! Actually, longer but she was sticking with a socially responsible age minimum. Good god, Greg could be his son! It was a bizarre realization, but one she quickly decided wasn't relevant. No…no…the age thing definitely doesn't _bug_ me. It never has. Quickly she redirected. "And how old do you think I am?" Sara cautiously asked.

"Twenty five? Twenty-six?" Misty smiled. "I took you for a grad student. Harvard too?"

"I just finished at Berkeley." Sara relaxed. Okay she just thinks I'm much younger than I am. Hee hee…wouldn't Catherine be jealous to know this girl thinks I look ten years younger than my age. That is an unbelievably catty thought for me, and yet I know Catherine would admire me for thinking it. Catherine really is a bad influence on me at times, but I'll forgive her because she's taught me so much and I know she's in Grissom's ear all the time giving him clues about our relationship. Okay that's a little strange too, but it works for us, so I'm not going to analyze it.

Moving her eyes off Misty, Sara focused them on Grissom who was still conferring with someone in the front of the room. Yep, in less than two months I'll be the big three-five and that's not WAY too young for Grissom. It's your magic fourteen year number, Misty. So maybe you and Scott have a chance because it's perfect for Grissom and me. Yeah…it works for us. We work. And last night we worked beautifully.

A smile exploded on Sara's face as she joked with herself. It must be the glow of pregnancy giving me a more youthful appearance. Yes, last night's endeavor was a success and the changes were already starting to show. Even though she knew it was scientifically unsubstantiated, it was fun to be flighty for a change. It was fun…like early this morning when Grissom was on the floor helping me find my shoe and I kissed him, knowing he would get _frustrated_ because we couldn't continue. Ha! He's such a morning person! I so much as look at him in the morning and he's good to go.

As she watched him she swore she was blushing. Oh yeah…if only Misty could have seen Grissom in bed last night, she'd know age was irrelevant. Then she realized how absolutely twisted her thought was and shivered. Not what I meant! I didn't mean for her to _literally _see him.

Misty grabbed a bottle of water. "How ridiculous, we haven't introduced ourselves." She displayed her nametag. "I'm Misty Carson. Where's your nametag?"

Proud of her man, Sara decided to grab the Sara Grissom nametag out of her purse and shock the hell out of Misty. Yes, Misty, he's mine all mine. He's intelligent, charming and knows how to please me in every way imaginable. As predicted, when she fastened the nametag on her shirt, the girl gasped and covered her mouth. "Yeah." Sara nodded. It was obvious Misty was impressed.

Misty cringed. "I feel _so_ awful for talking about Dr. Grissom in front of you. I mean, how gross is it to hear me talking sexually about your _father_! I'm so sorry!"

For the first time ever, Sara understood what Greg meant when he used the term, 'squicked out'. There was really no other way to describe the horrifying feeling overwhelming her. "Um…"

Marge Andrews sailed by with a silver bowl of chocolate. "A little something special for the presenter's wife." She set the treat on the table and kept on walking.

"You're his _wife_?" Misty asked in disbelief.

Suddenly Sara felt compelled to share. "I'll be thirty-five in seven weeks and there's nothing paternal about my marriage. If you don't believe me, I'll give you the number of my therapist." Now _that _was an overshare!

"Um…" Misty collected her books. "You know, Scott's flagging me to come sit with him so uh…nice meeting you."

Relieved to be alone to die her slow painful death of embarrassment, Sara reached for the chocolate bowl and started popping the raisinette-like candy into her mouth. At least she'd die on a chocolate high. Okay, that wasn't too weird, she tried to convince herself. She checked her watch. The presentation is supposed to start in two minutes and once it does my mind will be occupied with the Shelton case. Until then I will continue to eat this chocolate while forgetting Misty's squicky comment about Grissom. Wow this chocolate is really good. I wonder what kind it is?

"Honey." Grissom whispered as he bent down beside her. "I noticed from across the room you were eating a lot of that chocolate, and I think you should stop."

Sara stared at him. Coming over here to tell me I'm eating too much candy is not helping purge the squicky parental thought! Then she realized he was concerned about the baby…too much chocolate was bad…she remembered that from the books. Finally the world was right again. He was her loving husband, future father of her child. Whispering, she tenderly said, "Aww…you're worried about our baby."

"What?" He grabbed a piece of candy from the bowl and held it up. "No. These are chocolate covered ants and you're a vegetarian."

"Oh!" Her hand flew over her mouth. New squicky thought! "Oh!"

Grissom's voice filled with concern. "I thought you weren't going to wear that nametag?"

"I've got ant guts coursing through my digestive track and _that's _your biggest concern?" His angst over her having his name was really starting to _bug_ her.

* * *

_Next Episode: Bugged – Part 2 _

_Teaser: And yet there are still so many ways to get bugged…_


	14. Bugged Part 2

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

**Bugged – Part 2**

**July 27, 2005 (Day 96)  
****Colorado Springs Doubletree Hotel and Conference Center  
****Banquet Room  
****10:05 a.m. MST**

After downing an entire bottle of water and chewing the six peppermints that Grissom snagged for her from the podium, Sara was finally able to get rid of the chocolate ant taste dominating her mouth. She loved the irony of eating meat for the first time in years when Grissom was minutes away from presenting the Shelton case, the very case which swayed her to become a vegetarian. Are ants really meat? She pondered. I eat fish. So ants could be…what am I saying. Who cares if ants are _meat_? They are bugs. I ate bugs! Ugh that really _bugs _me!

And speaking of being bugged, what the hell is going on up front? Could we drag the start of this presentation any further? The projector wasn't working and some hotel employee was scrambling to fix it while the conference coordinator, Kim Trang, tried not to have an aneurysm because her perfect schedule was thrown off. Perfectionists…they're so funny. If Grissom could read her mind, Sara knew he'd be saying, 'Hey, Pot!'. Yes, Honey, I have been known to dabble in perfectionism from time to time. Isn't that why I'm hell bent on getting pregnant on the first try? Well actually, that's not the reason, but I know we don't want to discuss the_ real_ reason, so we'll chalk it up to perfectionism and call it a day.

Regarding Grissom, she wondered why he wasn't pacing the floor instead of leaning against the podium looking happy as a clam. Why is that? She followed his line of vision. Ahh…he's watching a table of guys watching me. Very cute. He's so happy to have me as his wife. As happy as I am to have him as my husband. Only three months into our spiritual union, we're still in that blissful honeymoon stage.

The sound of a briefcase dropping on the floor next to her startled Sara.

"Sorry." The frazzled woman announced as she dropped into the seat next to Sara. "I need to hide back here in the corner." She sniffled under her long blonde hair hiding her face.

"Are you okay?" Sara gently prodded, not wanting to pry, but feeling the need to be polite and not ignore the obviously distraught woman.

"No." The woman flipped back her hair to reveal blue eyes reddened by freshly cried tears. "My whole life is falling apart. My husband is being a total jerk about the stupidest thing and he's been calling every day and arguing with me. We've only been married three months and the honeymoon is definitely over. I can't focus at this conference because of him. I'm here with my boss and she's already told me she felt she wasted money sending me here. She expects me to ask a brilliant question this morning to prove I'm paying attention but as luck would have it, Dr. Grissom is speaking and I can barely keep up with him on a good day. Ugh!" She dropped her head in her hands. "I want to disappear."

"Um…well." Hmm…I'm not sure what to do about this? Hey, I sound like Grissom.

"Do you have any Tylenol?" The woman asked. "I'm Patty by the way."

"I'm Sara." She grabbed her purse. "I only have Advil."

"Thanks, but I can't take Advil, I'm pregnant."

"Oh." Sara returned her purse to the chair next to her while reminding herself to toss her Advil and buy a bottle of Tylenol.

"That's probably why I'm so emotional. I'm not usually one to share stuff with strangers but I'm at my wits end." Patty raked her hands through her hair. "We weren't planning on getting pregnant right away and it's causing so much stress on our new marriage. I mean, they say the first year of marriage is rough anyway because you're working out so much stuff but…I never expected it to be this hard." Noting the ring on her tablemate's finger she asked, "How long have you been married?"

"Uh…" Sara paused to analyze the answer. Okay, actually I never intended for anyone at this conference to think Grissom and I were married. However, when Ron accused me of being a hooker, I blurted it out and consequently; we had to go with it.

The truth is, we're not _legally _married, but about two months ago we made a commitment and he gave me this ring, which symbolizes our union _not_ ownership and the two of us are married in spirit. So what's the answer to the question? The answer is, we are strange people who are frightened at the prospect of a legal commitment because we witnessed the tragedy of good marriage gone bad first hand….but that's not something I should delve into because you're already an emotional wreck and I don't share that information with anyone except Grissom and my therapist. So, moving on...

Aside from the mentally inhibiting reasons, there is also the problem of Grissom being my boss so we can't get married until one of us takes a different job. Which we don't want to do because we love working together. Yeah…he's my boss too. Kind of complicated, huh?

Actually, this whole situation gets more complicated by the day and well…I think something is wrong. Hmm…that's a new revelation.

"We've been married eight months." Sara finally blurted. It was the answer she had given to Brian and Miranda Anderson and for simplicity's sake, she decided to use it again.

"Has it been difficult for you?" Patty delicately inquired.

Again Sara thought through her response. Hard? Are you kidding me? The _years _leading up to the relationship were the ones that almost killed me! And I mean that literally and figuratively since right before Grissom and I finally got it together. I almost died from ingesting GHB, which I received from a bastard I went to Tahoe with _as friends_ in an effort to get away from Grissom and reprioritize my life. I digress. Back to the original question…

Our 'marriage' has been great. We rarely argue. Well there was the time when I found out he slept with a dominatrix, but I'm so over that now. We rarely disagree because we don't have issues…well except for the ones we're avoiding. Like this morning, we kind of started debating this whole marriage thing that I just lied to you about.

Yeah, about the Mrs. Grissom thing…we kind of swept that under the rug. We've been known to do that sort of thing in the past. Not that the Mrs. Grissom issue is _bugging_ me. Well that's not entirely true either. That's called avoidance. I'm really good at it. Unfortunately so is he.

Suddenly she answered the question. "Oh, like any couple, we have our problems." Good. Nice vague answer. You validated her; you validated your own concerns. Dr. Myers would be proud. Actually Dr. Myers would be saying, _Don't you think you and Gil have something to discuss?_ To which I'm certain I'd reply, _yes, but I don't know what to do about it, so I'll just wait for him to figure it out. _That's a guarantee that it won't come up for a while.

Finally Kim Trang's voice boomed into the room. "I am profoundly sorry for the delay. Dr. Grissom the equipment is ready so if would you please start your presentation. Thank you."

Hallelujah! Sara relaxed back in her chair, ready to watch her man captivate the room with beautiful mind.

While the conference participants sat jotting notes and reviewing data, Sara's head filled with other thoughts. Of bringing Grissom a blanket and a thermos of coffee. Of spending the night under the stars and secretly loving each other's company while not admitting one damn feeling or intimate thought. We were so good at avoidance back then. Good thing we're not like that now. Well except for this morning. But back to the Shelton case…

Internally she laughed remembering her cornering him in his office and asking the infamous, _do you want to sleep with me_ question. Now when I ask Grissom to sleep with me, he doesn't hesitate. Not that I have to ask, we kind of have this little system of signals so he knows when I'm needy. I know when he's needy. On the flip side, he knows when I'm exhausted. I know when he's exhausted. But no matter what, he's always willing to slip under the blankets and…blanket!

Grabbing one of the provided _ask the presenter_ note cards, Sara quickly jotted down a question for Patty to pose to the intellectually intimidating Dr. Grissom. Yeah, let's see how he handles this one, Patty. I bet you'll get some credit for asking it and better yet, you'll make him stammer. That should bring you points with your boss.

Tapping Patty on the shoulder, she handed her the card. "Trust me," She whispered, before pointing to her nametag.

Patty, who had been mentally drifting in and out during the presentation, was thrilled for the help from the presenter's wife.

When Kim Trang opened up the floor for questions, Patty was the first to raise her hand and when she was selected, she read what Sara had written. "Dr. Grissom, as I understand it, you initially believed Kaye Shelton was dead for three days but after you conducted the experiment with the pig, you realized she was dead for five because of the tightness of the blanket delaying insect maturation. What was it exactly that made you consider the tightness of the blanket as a contributing factor?"

Grinning wildly, Sara watched Grissom stumble.

"Actually I…you know…I um…I often say confusion is the best place for a scientist to be. In this particular scenario, one moment I was confused and the next moment I thought of the tightness of the blanket. I guess what I'm saying is that the mind works in mysterious ways and you should embrace inspiration whenever it appears. Excellent question, thank you. Next?"

Patty saw her boss give her a thumbs-up and plunked back in her seat smiling for the first time today. "Thanks, Sara."

"It was my pleasure."

**Las Vegas Crime Lab  
****Nick Stokes's Office  
****11:30 a.m. PST**

His approved vacation request form in hand, Nick sat on the edge of his desk and called Carrie on her cell phone. "Hey, Baby, guess what?"

"You got Friday and Monday off?"

"Yes, I did. Did you?"

"I did, but I still feel so irresponsible for taking days off after only being at my new job for a month! This better be worth it, Stokes!"

Her chuckle signaled she was teasing and he replied, "Are you saying you'd rather me take someone else?"

"Very funny. So _now _are you going to tell me where we're going?"

"Nope." He knew the mysteriousness surrounding the trip was driving her insane. "Can you just give up a little control and go with the flow for once? Remember, I was supposed to help you with that. When we first met you told me how you always put work before your personal life and you hoped it wasn't too late. I said I would make sure you found balance…this is me balancing you."

"How will I know what to pack? Will it be hot or cold?"

Laughing, he replied, "Inside it will be hot but outside it could get a little chilly at night I suppose."

"It will get chilly _inside _if we get wherever we're going and I'm not prepared!"

"Control freak."

"Tease." She huffed.

"Don't you have a job to do?"

"Yes, so stop bugging me at work!"

Glancing over his shoulder he made sure the coast was clear. "I love you."

"I'll have to get back to you on that due to crowd control issues in my office. Bye."

"Bye, Honey." He hung up the phone grinning wider than when he started. "Oh yeah…the trip is on."

**Colorado Springs Doubletree Hotel and Conference Center  
O****utdoor Courtyard  
****12:35 p.m. MST**

The tables on the patio were all set for lunch when the group filed out of the banquet room.

Walking next to Sara, Grissom said, "Sorry I can't have lunch with you but I agreed to meet with Paul and Ken on this body farm stuff before I knew you were coming to see me."

"It's no problem." She informed him. "It will give me more time to mingle and charm everyone with my knowledge of corpses covered in Fungus beetles. Or, maybe I'll gather everyone around and truthfully answer the blanket question."

"Thank you for that, by the way." Tilting his head he gave her a disapproving look. "I didn't see that one coming."

"It's good to keep you on your toes." She needled. "You could do these lectures in your sleep. I'm trying to keep it fresh for you by adding an element of surprise."

"Speaking of sleep and surprises, since you have the night off and I'm in no hurry to return home to see you, I extended our stay here for a night and changed our flight reservations. I hope you don't mind that I did it without asking you."

"Wow." Very spontaneous of him she mused. "I think it's an excellent idea." Now they could go out and be normal people for a night and have fun like they did when out of town in San Francisco. They were so good together in San Francisco and not only in the back of the limo. Why was that? Was it the clothes? The locale? Or was there a deeper reason?

After giving her arm a squeeze, Grissom said, "I'll see you after lunch."

"Have fun discussing the body farm over grasshopper au gratin." He didn't turn around but she knew he was smiling.

As Grissom walked across the courtyard to meet his lunch mates at their table, Sara assessed the crowd. Definitely staying away from Misty's table, Marge's table and Cathy's table, hmmm…

"Why don't you join us?" Don Pratt said, as he motioned to an empty seat at the table full of guys. "Since your husband abandoned you for two crusty old men."

"Um…" Truly it was the last place she wanted to sit, but then she remembered her side job…charm them with knowledge. "Thank you." She took a seat and glanced around the table. "So I've met you, Don." Yes, I distinctly remember you shamelessly checking out my bare thighs, you perv. "And Pete, I saw you in the hallway." As I recall, you were making fun of my husband and invading our privacy. "Who else do I have the honor of dining with today?"

Pete did the intros. "That's Raj, Tyler and Bryce. Don and I are Forensic Entomologists while these other three bozos are Criminalists hoping to scam some good bug info."

"Nice to meet you." Sara batted her eyes at each one while the guys nodded. "I'm a Criminalist myself, not a buggie."

The men laughed. "What level?" Raj asked.

"I'm a three." Thanks to my boss who held me back. Of course he made me a better offer down the road. "So what's for lunch today guys? Slug stew and blowfly pie for dessert?" As predicted, that one got a lot of laughs. Yeah…this was going to be one long lunch hour of none stop wittiness. Grissom _will_ metaphorically dance for me later. "You guys want to hear about my last trip to the body farm?"

About twenty minutes into lunch, Grissom finally had a chance to glance around and when he did, he saw Sara seated at a table with Pete and Don and some CSIs from Houston. The men were laughing and Sara was too. Tuning out of his own lunch conversation for a moment he lost himself in thought. Look at her over there…she's perfect. The guys are enjoying her company and why wouldn't they? They're young and single or middle-aged and divorced and she's fantastic. Look at all of them….their body language is clear. They all want her. Sorry guys, she's taken. Then it dawned on him…they all want her. They all want her, like all the guys wanted Debbie Marlin.

Where did that come from! Grissom panicked. Talk about a blast from the past. That insecurity had been dormant for nearly a year. Why surface now? Now when everything is perfect? Now, after the most intimate night of my life? Suddenly it made sense…because everything is perfect and it was the most wonderful night. What better time is there for a jolt of insecurity, than when you least expect it or want it? When you're most vulnerable, the jolt is most effective. Isn't that what caused Dr. Lurie to snap…an unexpected jolt of reality?

The crazy thing is I provoked it. I joked with Sara and told her to mingle with the guys. Why did I ask her to do that? Did I want to see if this _would_ happen? Did I want to see if this _wouldn't _happen? What was I trying to prove? No. It's a silly game, just like the one we played in San Francisco. But why was it fun that time and not now? What was it about San Francisco that made me feel so impervious to this kind of vulnerability? Why was everything so right in San Francisco?

"Gil, are you still with us?" Ken prodded.

"Huh?"

Paul took pleasure in teasing his long-time colleague because he was thrilled to see Gil, whom he considered a great guy, finally having a personal life. "Exactly how long have you been married? Because it seems to me that you can't stop staring at your wife, which tells me it hasn't been too long. As much as I love my wife of twenty-two years, I can't recall staring at her like that in public for a while. I'll have to remember to do that when I get home."

"Um…how long have we been…" Here was that question again. It came up in San Francisco with Brian and Miranda and now it was coming up here. Both times the issue was forced due to Sara blurting they were married. Why does she keep telling strangers? It's a private thing. It's not even something they've openly discussed with the team. Now what am I supposed to say? I can't say how long we've been married because we're not married. Well not to the outside world, but we are to each other and that's what matters to us, right? Or is she unhappy with the arrangement? Does she want more? Why does she need more?

"Uh oh." Ken shook his head. "He's forgotten his anniversary already. Don't you know wives hate that? That's one of the _many _reasons mine cited when she asked for a divorce ten years ago."

Paul glanced toward Sara. "If you want to keep her, I suggest you remember things like anniversary dates and birthdays. Or she'll leave you for a Radiologist like Ken's wife. Considering the way you're gaping at Mrs. Grissom, I'm assuming you want to keep her."

Do I want to keep her? Grissom shuddered. The opposite of keeping is losing. Why would they think…

"If you can't remember the date, then just tell us how long," Ken said as he put down his fork. "Or are you being secretive like you always are? How many decades have we been in this Entomology circle together and what we know about you personally couldn't fill a lecture note card."

"Eight months." Grissom finally replied. It was the lie Sara gave to Brian and Miranda and since he didn't have any other answer, he went with hers while thinking, this is way too complicated. Now I'm lying. I'm lying to people who respect me for my credibility.

"Just as I suspected," Ken remarked as he crumpled his napkin and put it on his plate. "Newlyweds. It will change."

"Don't listen to Mr. Bitter," Paul advised while stirring his Iced Tea. "My wife and I are looking at our twenty third anniversary on October 24th and the romance is alive and well." Like a guilty school boy he laughed. "Especially now that the kids are away at college, if you get my drift."

Staring at Grissom's young bride, Ken asked, "Are you and the lovely Sara Grissom going to start a family? Because you better start soon or you'll be seventy by the time your kid goes off to college."

Grissom reeled from the reality. No wonder Sara wants it to work on the first try and is trying to will it to happen! She's afraid I'll be seventy when our kid goes to college. This is crazy. Paul is a year younger than me, has been married for twenty-three years and has kids in college. I'm just starting down this path. Technically I haven't even started down the path because I'm not technically married.

Unbelievable. I'm almost forty-nine years old and my life still isn't anywhere close to normal and it's not because I'm a scientist and an intellectual and somehow above convention, because this guy sitting right next to me has similar credentials and he has a regular life. No, it's because I'm not…normal.

Deciding all he needed to get grounded in reality was a moment with Sara, he excused himself to head across the room. But when he stood up, he realized she was no longer sitting at the table where he had last seen her.

**Colorado Springs Doubletree Hotel and Conference Center  
****12:50 p.m. MST**

"Why are you calling me?" Sara snipped into her cell phone as she tossed her paper towel into the trash can. "After your little singing performance this morning, why should I even talk to you?" She took a seat on the couch in the lounge area of the plush ladies room. "And you have the worst singing voice."

"We can't all have a great voice like you." Nick laughed. "Sorry. I got carried away being with the gang again, so I participated in the song. Trust me…I don't want to think about why you got that name. It's like thinking about my parents doing it. Not that my parents ever played 'show me the money' in the back of limo."

Not a parental reference again, she cringed. But then she took comfort in the fact that Nick saw her as _one of_ the parents, that was a lot better than Misty's misperception! "Um…changing the subject back to the original question." Sara noted Marge Andrews entering the Ladies Room with a polite nod. "Why did you call me here? Huh mister? Cut to the chase."

"I need your advice on something for Carrie."

"My advice?" She laughed. "Where is Catherine? Trapped under Warrick?"

"Good one, Sara. No, this is an anal-retentive perfectionist question so I'm directing it to you."

"Okay, that makes more sense. What's your question?"

"I'm taking Carrie away for a _very_ special weekend and I want everything about it to be a surprise, even the location, but I'm afraid she's not handling the loss of control very well. Will it kill the mood if she's not in the know? Or should I just keep up the mystery? If it were you would you be able to handle it?"

"It would drive me crazy, but I think you should keep up the mystery if it's playing an important role in the weekend." She smiled. "Grissom just surprised me that we're staying here an extra night and I'm still breathing."

"Okay, so I'm going to let it ride and hope her head doesn't explode before we get on the plane."

"A plane…I'm intrigued." Sara glanced at her watch to get the time. Deciding she could chat for a while longer, she kept prying. "A plane to where? Tell me more."

"If I tell you, you can't tell anyone. Not even Grissom, because if this gets ruined…"

"I won't tell Grissom."

Marge, done washing her hands, waved at Sara on the way out and Sara returned the gesture.

When Marge emerged from the Ladies Room, she saw Grissom standing outside the door. "Is Sara in there?"

"Yes."

He breathed a sigh of relief.

"She's on the couch speaking with some man on the phone, about a trip you can't know about."

Grissom froze. What man? What trip? I can't know?

And, while he was pondering the possibilities, Ron Grant slithered over next to Marge. "So Gris, where did you find Sara? She's a keeper." A used-car-salesman laugh followed. "You old dog. Hey tell me, does she have a twin sister?"

Luckily Sara emerged from the Ladies Room before Grissom had a chance to ruminate over Ron's comments. "Hey, Sara." He walked over and scooted her down the hall. "Let's go away from the crowd for a minute. Okay?" He didn't wait for her answer.

When he finally found an empty conference room, he released her arm and shut the door. Then he noticed something was missing. "Why aren't you wearing your nametag? You had it on before lunch and now suddenly after lunch you don't have it on. Why is that?"

"Excuse me?" The question stunned her. "I took it off so you wouldn't flip out, which is ironic now that you're flipping out because I _don't_ have it on!"

"I'm not flipping out," he heatedly huffed.

"If you think that, then you don't understand the definition of flipping out."

Gripping the side of his forehead he tried to make sense of his reaction.

Sara decided to give him more evidence. "All morning you didn't want me talking about _the name_ or wearing the nametag, but suddenly you're dragging me down the hall to ask me why I'm _not _wearing it? Make up your mind! Do you want me to wear it or not? Do you want people to know who I am or not?" An air of sarcasm floated in her voice. "Not that I actually am that person on the nametag, which really makes this whole issue truly bizarre. Can you see why you're confusing me!" Not that it would be the first time.

"I…" Shaking his head, he did the only thing he could think to do. "I'm sorry."

"For what in particular?" It wasn't the first time he had given her a vague apology.

"For confusing you."

"Don't apologize for confusing me, just _un-confuse_ me." Staring into his eyes she knew it wasn't going to happen.

"I…"

"You know what…this isn't the time or the place for this discussion." Releasing her tension with a deep breath, she made a suggestion. "We'll talk after the conference ends in a couple of hours, okay?"

"Okay."

She started to walk towards the door but was stopped by his hand grabbing hers. "What?" She whispered.

"Nothing, I…I just needed to touch you." His voice was riddled with emotion. "Sara…" He fought the urge to ask the question but in the end he gave up the battle. "Who were you talking to on the phone in the Ladies Room? When I was looking for you, Marge told me you were in there on the phone."

"Nick." She answered without hesitation and even though he didn't ask why, she instinctively told him. "He wanted my advice on something regarding Carrie."

Of course it was Nick, you idiot. Of course it was harmless. "Advice on what?"

"He's surprising her with a trip and he wanted my opinion on the way he was planning it."

He clutched her hand a little tighter. "Where are they going?"

"I promised I wouldn't tell anyone where or why."

"But I'm your…" Letting go of her hand, he forced a smile. "A promise is a promise." How could he expect her to break this one while wanting her to keep others?

"You should know I always keep my promises." She returned his tense smile. "So um…I'll see you back in there."

"Yes." He shoved his hands in his pockets.

At the door, she turned around. "Grissom…I realize I'm confusing you too."

"Will you un-confuse me?"

"As soon as I know how."

Standing alone in the middle of the room he watched her walk out the door while wondering, what the hell just happened?

**1:55 p.m. **

Once again trying to blend like a moth, Sara sat in the banquet room in her corner seat next to Patty.

But she wasn't a moth, with the ability to camouflage herself to the point of invisibility, and from across the room she could feel his eyes on her. What the hell just happened? Is this what Patty was referring to when she said the first year of marriage is rough? Does it work that way for faux-marriages too?

Marriage. Suddenly it was surrounding her. Patty on her right, in the throes of it and Nick on the phone getting ready for it…

"_A plane…I'm intrigued." Sara glanced at her watch to get the time. Deciding she could chat for a while longer, she kept prying. "A plane to where? Tell me more." _

"_If I tell you, you can't tell anyone. Not even Grissom, because if this gets ruined…"_

"_I won't tell Grissom." _

_Marge, done washing her hands, waved at Sara on the way out and Sara returned the gesture. _

_Once Marge was out of the room, Sara said, "Nick, wait, if I can't tell Grissom, then don't tell me, because I don't keep secrets from him." _

"_Okay fine, you can tell Grissom, but only him!" _

_Excited for the inside information, she tapped her hand on her knee. "Go ahead and tell me!" _

"_You know how the first day I met Carrie, I took her out to see the sights of The Strip?" _

"_Yeah." _

"_That night when we were standing in the glow of the Eiffel Tower at the Paris Hotel I knew she was the one." _

"_So when do I get to hear something I **don't** know!" She chuckled. _

"_I'm taking Carrie to France to propose to her under the real Eiffel Tower. Wendy lifted her passport for me and I've got the ring in pocket."_

_Stunned, she stared blankly into the mirror on the wall in front of her. "So soon? I mean it's only been a few months, Nick." _

"_Why wait when you know with 100 certainty what you want for the rest of your life? Assuming she says yes…and if she doesn't, I plan on climbing up the tower and jumping, so if I don't return it's up to you to call my family. Anyway, assuming she says yes, I don't know how long of an engagement she'll want but if it's up to me it will be quick because I can't wait to stand up in front of my family and friends and say those vows and become husband and wife." _

"_Right." _

"_Aren't you going to wish me luck, Boom Boom?" _

"_Um…of course." In the mirror she caught her expression. What is that emotion reflected in the glass? "I was waiting to see you in person before you go." _

"_Oh okay. Well you have fun at the bug show, and I'll show you the ring before I leave. Talk to you later."_

"_Bye." _

_As she disconnected the call, she couldn't help but think…why is this bugging me so much?_

Sitting in the banquet room, she knew she wasn't a moth, because if she were, by now she would have used her wings to fly up and out of the room. She needed to leave because she had something to do, something that might help, but to get up and walk out would raise suspicion, and flip out Grissom…not that he'd admit it.

Then she realized she could escape without wings. Grabbing a note card, she wrote a message to her new pal Patty.

Return of favor? On the sly, call my cell: 702-555-1482

Without hesitation, Patty slipped her cell phone out off her clip, and surreptitiously did as instructed.

A moment later, Sara made a very obvious play for her ringing cell phone while mouthing 'so sorry' to Pete who was presenting. With the cell phone in hand she flew out the door. She knew he wouldn't follow her because it would look unprofessional. Thank goodness for professionalism. Now she could do what needed to be done.

When Grissom saw Sara flee the room, every fiber of his being wanted to follow her out the door but it wasn't possible. It would be extremely unprofessional. Who called? Was it Nick again about the surprise trip? How did Nick get time off for a trip?

Grissom sent a quick text message to Brass.

**Nick. Time off? Why?**

A few minutes later he got a reply.

**Guessing time for ring or ball and chain? Sucker!**

Grissom grabbed a bottle of water to wash down the lump in his throat. So, on top of Sara feeling suddenly vulnerable about marriage, Nick called and told her he was either proposing or getting married. Perfect timing. Story of their life.

For a while he sat there listening to Pete drone on about Gunshot Residue Detection in Calliphorids and when he glanced at his watch the next time, he saw over an hour had passed since Sara left the banquet room. She didn't take her things with her, so she had to be coming back…coming back _to the room_ because she wasn't really _gone._ She'd never really be gone. You_ know_ that. She always keeps promises and what did she promise? She promised to stay. You promised to trust her, remember? She's just scared about something, just like she was about taking the pregnancy test. You_ know _this.

And just when he was certain he couldn't sit in the room waiting a second longer, she reappeared through the door and returned to her chair. Once sitting, she looked his way and he saw the one thing he needed most…her smile. She was back. He was back. But where had she gone? Then he remembered he could text her and he typed a special message.

**The course of true love never did run smooth.**

After sending the message he watched to see her retrieve it, but she didn't move, which was really odd since his phone was silently signaling an incoming message.

**Thanks for the information Love Muffin.**

That's when Grissom realized he had sent it to Brass instead of Sara. Before he could type a message he was receiving another.

**Screwed up again?**

Reading the latest message didn't help matters. Yes, I screwed up something but I'm not exactly sure what it is or how to fix it. As you would say, if you were here, Jim…shocking. The vibration of his phone cued him to look at the display.

**Shocking!**

Turning off his phone, he decided, since the conference was ending soon, it was best to wait and talk to Sara when they were alone.

* * *

_Next Episode: Bugged Part 3 of 3_

_Teaser: For once and for all, it's time them to get un-confused! This has been years in the making. _


	15. Bugged Part 3

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

"**Bugged – Part 3"**

**July 27, 2005 (Day 96)  
****Las Vegas Crime Lab  
****Nick Stokes's Office  
****4:41 p.m. PST**

Sitting at his desk with the burgundy velvet ring box in his hand, Nick punched in Carrie's cell number.

"Felt like torturing me about the mystery trip again, huh?" Carrie groaned. "What's this afternoon's hint? People drink water where we are going?"

"No." He gripped the box in his hand. "I called to say I consulted with Sara earlier today and she agrees I should keep you in suspense."

"I find that hard to believe!" She laughed. "But, if she agrees, then I'll shut up and go with the flow because it must be good."

"I'm hoping so." He cracked open the box to reveal the perfect one carat princess cut diamond mounted on a shiny gold band.

"Should I bring a swimsuit?"

"Sure."

"Should I bring lingerie?"

"Honey, the answer to that question will always be, yes."

"Should I bring scuba gear?"

"No!" He laughed. "Hey, I thought you said you were going with the flow."

"Yes, a flow of questions!"

"Oh, I have a question for you." Taking the ring out of the box, he imagined presenting it to her and asked a question that would give him a successful practice run. "Do you want me to pick up some Chinese on the way home from work?"

"Yes!"

Nick grinned from ear to ear while thinking, say it just like that when we're in Paris, Honey.

**Manitou Springs  
****5:50 p.m. MST **

When Sara first told Grissom she didn't want to go back to their room to have the discussion she needed to have with him, he feared the worst. Not because she wanted a different locale, but because of her reasoning…the room held such special memories she didn't want the conversation to taint the memories in any way. Although he nodded and agreed to get in the car with her, he couldn't help but feel he was being driven to an execution…an end to his life as he knew it. His only comfort…there wasn't a shovel in the trunk.

While Sara drove to the scenic Garden of the Gods Mountain Park, she and Grissom chatted casually about the conference and of bugs while both agonized over the conflicting questions in their heads. They had so much practice at this bastardized form of schizophrenia it came naturally and neither seemed outwardly disturbed while they were suffering on the inside. Passersby would have thought they were happy vacationers heading to a popular tourist spot.

While driving the winding road through the park, Grissom embraced the safety of science and began spouting technical information regarding rock formation and geology while Sara, always the good student, absorbed the information with a smile on her face.

When she finally parked the car at a remote trailhead at the bottom of several looming rock formations, Grissom let the first of his concerns surface. "Please tell me we're not here to jump off anything, or more likely, for you to push me off anything."

Smiling warmly, she assured him. "No. We're here so we can talk…really talk. Come on." She opened her car door and stepped outside to wait for him, fully prepared to extract him if he played hard to get.

After a moment, he left the car and stood beside the door filling his lungs with the fresh mountain air. "This is a remarkable place." It was a shame that such a beautiful location was going to be the setting for what he assumed would be an ugly conversation.

"I saw the brochure in the lobby of the hotel earlier and thought it was the perfect place to talk about some issues because…" She waited for him to walk around and stand in front of her. "…because any problem will seem insignificant when discussed at the base of a towering spire of rock, with Pikes Peak in the distance, right?"

"Very insightful." He took her hand and immediately pulled her in for a hug. "I need this first though." In silence he held her, preferring to draw the moment out as long as possible until finally curiosity got the best of him. "Where did you go earlier when you left the banquet room?"

"I went for a walk around the block to clear my head."

He held her tighter. "Did it work?"

"Yes." She replied confidently. "But only because I was on the phone with Dr. Myers. When I was in the banquet room I remembered I had a session scheduled today."

"So that's why you left so abruptly." Pulling back slightly, he checked her expression. "Is everything going to be alright, Sara?"

"Yes. Of course." Cupping his face, she gave him a kiss for confidence. "Let's find a nice place to sit for our talk." Taking his hand she guided him a little ways down the path and then turned when she saw a gathering of boulders creating a secluded spot around a grassy patch. "Over here."

She took a seat and then gently tugged him to sit beside her.

"I have to admit you're unnerving me, Sara." He took a seat and lowered his head. "I feel like everything is about to end, which doesn't make much sense after last night when we decided to begin something that could already be happening."

Squeezing his hand, she said, "Hopefully some things are about to end, but only the stuff that needs to so we can move in a new direction _together._ This conversation is going to be a journey and you need to stick with me and not panic." When he nodded, she continued. "It's not just going to be about me, it's going to be about you too. Promise to stick with me?" Her tone was optimistic.

He mustered the courage. "I promise to try my best."

"Good enough."

"Okay." Suddenly a little nervous, she paused for a deep breath. "Okay, I've told you that my sessions with Dr. Myers have been great and that's true. My childhood issues have all been confronted and dealt with and of course, there are still some painful memories from time to time, but now I know how to handle them. Like today for instance, when I met Misty Carson. She reminded me of why I didn't have friends like her in college. Girls like her loved to share and when you have so much you're hiding from your past you can't be friends with her, because you spend the whole friendship hiding your secrets. But now…I remember I do have friends who know my secrets and the world hasn't fallen apart. That's what I'm talking about…I've learned to put things in perspective."

"You've told me lately that your sessions have all been progress review and that things were great."

Once she was sure his eyes were on hers, she replied, "I wasn't lying, I just wasn't telling you everything because I wasn't ready."

"Okay." Her answer only augmented his tension.

Feeling they were both ready for more, she continued. "When Dr. Myers and I finished dealing with my childhood, we started exploring other issues. What I'm about to discuss is months worth of work so don't think I came up with all this during an hour. Today is just the day I could finally deal with it and share it."

"Why today?" His curious mind always needed to know why.

"Because today, the combination of me being the girl crushing on you in the back of the room while you lectured and you see-sawing over the Sara Grissom nametag brought it to a head."

"I'm listening."

"Good." As he had done many times in the past when she was tense, she brought his hand to her lips for a quick kiss. "A few months ago, Dr. Myers and I started delving into my time at Harvard. Harvard was a very confusing time for me. I was on my own, no one knew my past, and suddenly I wasn't 'the smart girl' no one could talk to, because everyone there was smart. Living in Boston opened up a whole new world for me, but I didn't know how to handle it. I tried a lot of different ways to fit in. I tried to make friends, I dated for the first time and when I did, I didn't always feel comfortable. I was looking for something and sometimes I found glimpses of what I needed, but it was never enough and never from the right person."

They never discussed her time in Boston, so it was all new information to Grissom. "Is that why you left and returned to California?"

"I was ready for a change, but I needed familiarity too. When I got to San Francisco, I started over again. Eventually I dated Brian Anderson, who of course you know now."

He shrugged. Not necessarily wanting anymore information on Brian than he already acquired.

"Aside from the obvious betrayal I told you about, the other problem with Brian and with almost all of the guys I dated in Boston, was they didn't make me feel special. They made me feel vulnerable, not protected." Her gaze turned to the ground below her as her voice softened. "When you live most of your life in shelters, protection is something you are used to craving. You want someone to take care of you, to remind you that even if the world thinks you're forgettable, you are really special…and in my case that you are smart and pretty and good to have around."

"Did I…" He wasn't sure where she was going with her story.

"Yes." Looking up, she met his gaze. "Even though we weren't in an intimate relationship, you made me feel all those things."

"I really felt those things." He searched her eyes for strength. "I still do, Sara. I don't know where…"

Placing her fingertips over his lips for a moment, she smiled. "Patience. I am the teacher right now. Listen and acquaint yourself before making any judgments, okay?"

Her words brought a smile to his face. "I suppose you've listened to me say that enough."

"That's right." She snuggled closer. "While you were giving me those things you were also protecting me at work. You were taking care of me, teaching me, making sure I grew intellectually. You filled my needs and I loved you for it, but then one day I realized, I didn't just love you _for it_, I loved you. The problem was, you didn't love me back."

"I did. I just couldn't tell you."

"And when you didn't, I chased you…or cornered you."

They shared a chuckle.

"As we know now, I forced the issue at the wrong times and I missed opportunities. Then one day in Tahoe, sitting alone in a hospital bed I gave up on you. I gave up because you did what all the others did…abandoned me."

His voice faded. "I still cringe every time I think about it."

"You mean every time Jim reminds you." Deciding she didn't want to sit by his side, she turned to face him, taking both of his hands in hers. "I swore after Tahoe I wouldn't give you another chance, not even if you came begging for one at my apartment." Laughing lightly she said, "Good thing I don't keep promises I make to myself! Hell if I did that I would have left _the lab_ years ago."

Her smile fed him and he relaxed slightly. "I certainly benefited from your inability to follow through."

"Anyway…you showed up at my apartment, you said the right things, and because I still loved you with all my heart, I gave you that chance, which was the best decision I ever made."

Apprehensively, he remarked, "This is all starting to sound very good, which either means I misinterpreted why we are here, or you haven't dropped the bomb yet."

"There are no bombs." She inched closer, placing one of her hands on the ground on the other side of his waist, just in case he decided to run…just like she used to stand in the doorway of his office so he couldn't escape before hearing her words. "When we started our relationship, we were a dysfunctional couple because of the years of playing games and because we never were in real relationships with other people. We didn't know what we were doing." A grin suddenly blanketed her face. "Well, physically, as you know, we figured things out just fine but, when it came to talking we kind of did what we always did best…avoid issues."

"I agree with that assessment."

"We basically took our old relationship and added the romance. Which worked for us and actually it was exactly what I needed because when I broke down over my past, you were there for me doing what you do best…taking care of me. You found Dr. Myers, you bought me the house, you gave me anything I needed to the point where I knew I didn't even have to ask and the answer was yes."

Tenderly he said, "You deserved all that because you needed…"

Again she covered his lips. "No judgments remember. But your comment is the perfect transition to my point. We're not those people anymore. I'm not a needy girl looking for someone to take care of me anymore…at least not in the same way. I don't want to be that girl in the back row crushing on you as you lecture. I need to be your partner. When we're partners, it's fantastic. Think of San Francisco. We were Mr. and Mrs. Fabulous. I helped you with your bow tie, you surprised me with a beautiful gift. You taught me about the opera, I imparted a little knowledge on you in the back of the limo. When we were out with Brian and Miranda, I felt like your wife and you were my husband. That whole night, we had symmetry. Last night too. We were both equally nervous and excited as we started a new chapter in our lives as husband and wife. The experience was wonderful."

He tensed. "I sense a 'but' coming."

"But…the problem is, we keep snapping back into our old roles and it's confusing."

Brushing her hair off her shoulder, he whispered, "And now you're going to un-confuse me."

"Yes." Her explanation was delayed when she opted to pause for a kiss. "Ready now?"

He nodded.

"The Mrs. Grissom issue symbolizes the struggle. Am I your wife…your equal partner, or am I that girl crushing on you, waiting for you to let me know I'm smart and pretty, letting you take care of me? The answer is…it depends on the day. And that's a problem. It's only becoming a problem now because I don't need you to take care of me like that anymore and I want a new direction. I want us to take care of each other as husband and wife."

As Grissom listened to her words, his own concerns were unearthed. "Why do I feel…where does that leave me?"

"I was just getting to your issues. Dr. Myers and I talk about you too."

"Why do you think I pay her to talk to you?" A tense smile found its way through to his lips. "It's therapy by proxy. Un-confuse me some more."

"As long as I'm the girl you're trying to keep, you're always going to feel vulnerable. Remember, I heard you in that interrogation room. I know your big fear. You worry that one day someone else is going to come along and I'll think you're not needed anymore because the new guy will take better care of me. Before we were in a relationship, you focused on keeping me in the lab. Now that we're together you focus on keeping me in your personal life."

He couldn't argue with the perception so he nodded.

"You work very hard to make me need you and you hope that no one else will ever be able to do it better than you."

Averting his eyes, he sighed. "That's true…very true." Then he returned his gaze to her hoping for more answers.

"Yes, but you're cheating yourself and feeding your vulnerability. Stop trying so hard to _keep _me." Locking on the uncertainty in his eyes, she confidently said, "You know I'm here to stay. Be my partner and believe in the love between us to keep us together."

"This is what you meant when you said you hoped some things would end after this conversation. You meant our old patterns?"

"Yes. Although it's not going to happen overnight, because we're so comfortable with them."

"This is a lot to process."

"And I'm not done yet." She saw his disappointment that he wasn't off the hook. "There is another angle to the Mrs. Grissom issue."

"Another angle?" He exhaled sharply and prepared for another round of reluctant enlightenment.

"This one weaves back to childhood on both our parts."

"I don't like going there." When he remembered his physical location sitting against a boulder, he said, "So I guess you really do have me caught between a rock and a hard place."

Pleased he found a modicum of humor in what she knew was a tense situation, she smiled. "Maybe there was a subconscious reason for cornering you in this locale."

"Remember…there are no accidents."

She kissed his cheek. "I'll talk about me first." She gave him a moment before beginning. "In discussing the nametag issue with Dr. Myers today, I came to a conclusion. The secretive nature of our union puts me in the same vulnerable position I was in when I was in foster care. I can't be open about my personal life to others. When I was a kid, I used to make up stuff if push came to shove. Sometimes I'd create a brother or a dog, or I'd tell a story of my mom taking me shopping just so I could feel like everyone else. The same thing happened when we went out with Brian and Miranda in San Francisco. I wanted to fit in, so I made up a story about our marriage. I liked feeling normal. I wish I didn't have to do the same thing I've been doing my whole life…hiding the truth."

"I honestly never thought of that." But now that she said it, it made perfect sense.

"Well, contrary to what you might believe, you're not expected to know everything, Honey." She chuckled. "That's why you pay Dr. Myers, remember?"

"Right." He considered her statements again then, hoping she had a handy answer, he asked, "Why did the nametag bug me all day?"

"Do you want to think about it, or do you want me to un-confuse you?"

"If we wait for me to figure it out…."

"Point taken." Capturing his eyes, she opened his to the truth. "You're scared that if I am your wife, Mrs. Grissom, that makes you my husband, Mr. Grissom, and you're afraid that will make you your father."

"The sins of the father…"

"But each generation grows wiser, right? I know you believe that because you've told it to me. It's like forensic science, remember? First there was blood on a shovel attracting flies, then fingerprints…"

"Now DNA." Her point kept getting clearer.

"As time passes, we learn from others, and then we move on trying to do it better than those who have gone before us." She knew it was all coming together for him.

"I talked with you about this after the Shelton case."

"And you talked about the Shelton case today."

"And now you're talking to me about this. He raised a brow as the entire conversation came into focus. "Symmetry."

"It's what we need."

"But how can we…" Again the solution escaped him and he became overwhelmed.

Sensing he was maxed out, she stood up. "We'll figure it out." Extending her hand to Grissom, she remarked, "But right now I know we're both overwhelmed and, I'm not sure about you but I'm starving because I was so sickened from eating all those chocolate covered ants, that I passed on the grasshopper au gratin at lunch." She laughed. "All that time I was joking about the food served at the conference containing bugs, it never dawned on me that some of the food really was bugs!"

Looking up at her standing over him, he had that same feeling he did this morning. She looked different and he loved what he saw.

"Come on, take my hand." She wiggled it in front of him. "Now that we're on a roll, we can talk more over dinner."

Still mystified by the conversation and her, he did as asked and rose up to stand in front of her.

"By the way, dinner is on me because you earned it." She teased before throwing her arms around his neck. "That talk wasn't so bad, was it?"

Eager for the affection he returned the embrace. "It's what we needed to say…well, as usual, you said most of it. I listened. I guess it doesn't matter as long as by the end we're on the same page."

She laughed. "Some things won't change. I'm sure that will always be the pattern of our conversations and it's okay. Well there was the time you came to my apartment to ask me to stay…you did most of the talking that time as I stood there with my jaw touching the floor."

"Who knows, I may surprise you one day and once again articulate something profound." Relaxing for the first time since lunch, he asked, "So, where are you taking me for dinner?"

"On my salary?" She chuckled. "We're dining down tonight, partner." She tossed him the keys. "I drove here so you can drive back."

Lacing his fingers with hers, he smiled. "More symmetry?"

"Yeah."

**Carrie's Apartment  
****6:36 p.m. PST **

In the kitchen, Nick stood at the counter removing Chinese food containers from a red plastic shopping bag, while Carrie sat at the kitchen table her head buried in a case file. "Honey, do you want an eggroll to start?" He asked.

"Yes."

There was that wonderful answer. Let's try that again. "Can I grab you a beer?"

"Yes."

The curve of his smile heightened to dangerous proportions. Third time's a charm. "Do you love me?"

"Yes!"

Yeah…say it just like that in Paris, Honey.

Looking up from her file, Carrie saw Nick grinning like a fool. "Well, you're in an excellent mood today. Did Jim Brass say you could pawn off Sofia to the Night shift?"

Her assumption told him two things…one, she didn't have a clue he was going to pop the question in a few days and two, he'd been bitching and moaning to Carrie about Sofia Curtis a little too much. "Do you really want to know why I'm in such a great mood?"

"Yes." She tossed her pen down. "I do."

"I got a bonus!" He exclaimed, in reaction to hearing 'I do' from her mouth for the first time.

She was surprised since he was so new to his supervisor position. "You got a bonus at work?"

"Did I say that?"

"Yes."

Holding up the carton of egg rolls he said, "I got a bonus egg roll. There should be two but there are three."

"Must be your lucky day, Baby."

While he grabbed two plates from the cabinet he grinned uncontrollably. No, my lucky day is actually scheduled for Saturday.

**Colorado Springs  
****Morgan's Tavern  
****8:42 p.m. MST **

"So Nick is taking Carrie to Paris to propose." Grissom remarked while sitting next to Sara in a remote booth in the lively bar and grill. "I've known Nick for a long time and seen him go through a lot of women. I'm really happy for him…for them."

A few minutes earlier, Sara confessed that although Nick originally said she couldn't share the news, she was later given permission but chose not to share the information, because of the 'Mrs. Grissom' discomfort in the air. "I honestly don't know how Nick will make it until Saturday without exploding."

"When do you think they'll get married?"

"He's hoping it won't be too long because he said, I quote, 'why wait when you know with 100 certainty what you want for the rest of your life?'"

Grissom nodded.

The waitress returned, as requested, with another round of drinks and the check. "Thanks, have a good night."

"You too." Sara grabbed the check. "My treat, remember?" She picked up her glass of Sprite. "To symmetry," she toasted.

They clinked their glasses.

"To symmetry." Grissom replied before taking a gulp of Scotch. Then he remarked, "Toasts by nature are very symmetrical."

"Speaking of symmetry." Sara's lips took a devilish turn. "I just remembered something is out of balance. You put on a show for me in San Francisco with Miranda and Brian, and in return, I danced for you. This morning you asked me to put on a show for the boys at the conference and in return I said I expected you to dance for me."

"You were speaking metaphorically, right?" He took another sip and set the glass on the table. "I danced around a few issues today, doesn't that count?"

"I'll consider it, but I may still require something different when we get back to our hotel." From her purse she grabbed her wallet, removing her credit card. "When the waitress comes, can you give this to her? I need to hit the Ladies Room."

"Sure." He smiled when he saw it was her old credit card and not the one he gave her. She always keeps her promises.

Almost ten minutes later, Sara reappeared with a bounce in her step. After signing her credit card receipt, she tossed the pen and announced, "It's time! Let's go."

Sliding out of the booth, Grissom handed her the credit card. "What's the rush?"

"It's time for you to dance." Taking him by the arm she led him into the next room. "_Literally _dance…with me."

"What?" He balked like a frightened racehorse being led to the starting gate. "Are you out of your mind?" Staring at the smoky room filled with couples grooving on the dance floor, he surged to full panic. "I don't dance, Sara!"

"I do." She informed him in a confident tone. "Well, not to this fast stuff but to a slow one, which I feel pretty certain is coming up next." Thanks to a ten dollar bill and a little conversation with the DJ on the way back from the Ladies Room, she was able to peruse the selection list and make a request. In his ear she whispered, "You'll be my student tonight."

"Anything but this!" He groveled. "Actually, I've rethought my original answer from this morning. I'd rather strip for you in the back of a car than dance clothed in public."

Grabbing his hand, she gently goaded, "The DJ is going to play our song."

"We don't have a song." With terror-filled eyes he stared at her. "Do we have a song?"

"We will after we dance to this one tonight." Seeing his frightful expression she wasn't sure she could go through with it but, as the current song ended, she encouraged him one last time. "I'll take care of you out there. I'll make it painless."

"Then you must be planning to render me unconscious." He deadpanned.

"Close." Slipping her arm around his waist, she guided him to the dance floor. "I'm going to distract you, like you distract me with Wallner lines when I'm nervous."

"Sara, really I…" It was too late, they were already on the floor. "Wallner lines don't do it for me like they work on you."

"That's why I'm doing something different." After sliding her hands over his chest, she locked her arms around his neck…lightly enough not to choke him, strong enough so he couldn't escape. "Just listen to the words, they fit our past…they fit our present." When she realized his hands were still at his side, she prompted, "Arms around my waist, Honey."

"Oh." As he followed her instructions, the music started and his pulse soared. "I really can't believe I'm…"

"Shhh…just follow my lead. Symmetry remember? Sway in sync with me." Pressing her relaxed body to his tense one, she brought her lips to the lobe of his ear and sang the first verse of the Amy Grant song, Come Be with Me. "_Baby this life can break your heart…everyone hurts to some degree…but while this world is falling apart…why don't you come be with me?...Don't you know the night can be so cold…when you're without the one you need…how much longer do I have to go?...Waiting for you to come be with me?"_ She felt his grip on her waist relax ever so slightly. "Thanks for being with me…on this dance floor…in my life."

"I always loved catching you singing in the lab." He closed his eyes, hoping he'd forget he was in a room full of people. "You have a beautiful singing voice."

"Thank you." She upped the tempo of their dance a notch and once again she sang another portion of the song into his ear. "_Love can be so simple when you let it flow…dream it in your head, feel it in your …send it from your soul." _

Instinctively, he ran his hands over her back.

"I love you," she whispered instead of the lyrics.

Clutching her, he found the rhythm. "I just realized I love dancing with you."

"That's funny because I just realized I love dancing with you."

"That's symmetry…or the fact that we've never danced together before now." He sighed. "Sing a little more."

"_Look up at the stars burning bright…Listen to the winds whisper sweet…Heaven and Earth know the moment's right…why don't you come be with me?" _

Opening his eyes, he reached up and ran his fingers through Sara's hair. "Honey, I think I figured out what to do about our problem."

Shocked, she almost forgot to keep dancing. "What should we do?" Suddenly, she suspected this was just a ploy to escape. "Wait a minute. You're trying to end the dance early."

"Fine." He grinned. "Don't believe me."

"Hmm…" She saw his formerly terrified eyes were sparkling. "You're doing very well. Think you can take the lead and bring this song home?"

He answered by winding his arms around her tighter and swaying her to the slow grind of the music. "Don't tell the guys, but I like this dance as much as the one you did in the back of the limo."

"I promise." She chuckled. "Of course I didn't mean to tell them about the dance in the limo either."

Gazing into Sara's eyes, Grissom said, "Honey…let's…"

When he didn't finish his thought, she prompted him. "Let's what?"

"Let's go back to the hotel after this dance."

"You want me all to yourself?" She teased.

"Yes." He brushed a kiss over her lips. "I do."

* * *

_Next Episode: Shocking!_

_Teaser: Jim Brass is never surprised. _

* * *

_Thanks, _

_Maggs_


	16. Shocking!

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

"**Shocking!"**

**July 28, 2005 (Day 97)  
****Las Vegas Crime Lab  
****Jim Brass's Office  
****3:27 p.m.**

Brass was sitting at his desk milling over purchase requisitions when his cell phone rang. Much to his delight, it was a certain lady. "Are all your needy little boys at recess?" He answered before breaking into a grin.

"Yes, what about all your needy children?"

Before he could answer, he saw Grissom and Sara knocking on his closed door. "Unfortunately, two of mine, acquaintances of yours actually, just showed up in my office so I will have to go." He held up his index finger, signaling for them to give him a moment. "But let's continue this," He said as he turned his chair to face the wall.

"The call?"

"Yes…among other things."

"You have my number."

"I guess that makes me armed and dangerous." He laughed. "Okay, before this gets out of control, let's get back to controlling our worlds. The needy await."

"And I will be waiting for your call."

When he heard the click, he closed his phone and turned his chair around to face the couple hanging out in his doorway and motioned for them to enter. Once inside, he exclaimed, "Look who's here…Bug Boy and Boom Boom." He pointed to his side chairs, prompting them to take seats. "Welcome home. Did you bring back any souvenirs from the freak show?"

As Grissom and Sara navigated his office, Brass noticed the tense expressions on their faces. "What's going on? And why are you here so early?" Their arms tightly folded across their chests, they looked like they were facing a firing squad as they sat in the chairs in front of him. "Are the two of you having a problem?"

"Yes." Sara replied. "A big one."

"I screwed up." Grissom somberly admitted.

"Shocking!" Brass retorted without thinking of the insensitivity of his remark considering the dour looks on their faces. "Sorry…I shouldn't be joking." Recalling the accidental text message he received from Grissom, _the course of true love never did run smooth_, he realized something must have happened.

Without looking at Grissom, Sara announced, "I can't work for him anymore, Jim."

"What?" Brass didn't want it to be his business, but they were here so they were obviously reaching out for help. "Uh…" Then he remembered what he saw at their house…the baby books. Was it the baby thing? Grissom did sound less than enthusiastic when they spoke about it on the phone. Had Sara gone to Colorado and given him an ultimatum? Obviously it didn't end up going as planned. "Come on guys, you can work it out, right?"

"Not a chance." Grissom firmly replied. "What's done is done and there's no going back."

Sara huffed. "Got that right."

Standing up, Brass walked around and sat on the edge of his desk facing the two. Lowering his voice to a sympathetic tone, he asked, "What the hell could have happened in the last twenty-four hours to change everything?"

Averting her eyes, Sara started shaking, "You won't believe it."

For the first time since they entered his office, Brass saw Grissom and Sara glance at each other and when they did, the second their eyes locked, smiles flared and he realized Sara was trembling with laughter.

"Okay, what the hell is going on!" Brass demanded, never one to enjoy not having the upper hand.

A second later, Grissom and Sara, grinning like children on Christmas morning, revealed their left hands and the matching platinum bands on their respective ring fingers.

Brass's mouth dropped open. "Now that is shocking."

Sara repeated her earlier statement with one small addition. "I can't work for him any more because _I'm his wife_."

Grissom followed. "See…I screwed up…violated department policy."

"Hey, I did too," Sara reminded her partner in crime.

"But, as your supervisor, I'm ultimately accountable."

"Hold up!" Brass stopped the newlyweds' debate. "Do you have any idea how much this messes up things around here and makes my life more difficult? Weren't you guys thinking of me when you did this?"

"Uh…" Sara laughed. "Actually no, I wasn't." She turned to Grissom. "How about you, Honey?"

"Sorry, Jim." He shrugged.

Miffed, Brass slid off the edge of his desk and paced the room. "Wait a minute." Coming up behind the couple he chuckled. "You're yanking my chain…a little pay back for all the crap I've been giving you. You almost had me too. People don't leave Vegas to get hitched in Colorado Springs. You can't even get married there in a day." He slapped Grissom on the back. "Nice try for a couple of amateurs but you're no good at lying."

Sara looked at Grissom. "I told you he wouldn't believe it."

"I think he needs more evidence than the rings."

"Yeah." Brass returned to his desk chair to relax. "Knowing the two of you and your strange habits, you bought rings to pretend you're married for a while to see how it feels…conducting some kind warped pre-matrimonial experiment to see if it's feasible."

That line got a laugh from the couple while Sara reached into her purse. "The rings are Exhibit A." Grinning wildly, she placed the paper on his desk. "This…is Exhibit B."

Picking up the certificate, Jim shook his head. "Vegas? You got married in Vegas earlier today."

Grissom proudly nodded. "Bug Boy and Boom Boom are now Mr. and Mrs. Just Got Hitched."

Sara beamed with delight. "Actually, Mr. and Mrs. Grissom…unless we're at work then it's Gil Grissom and Sara Sidle…unless of course an occasion calls for a little more formality, then we're Dr. Grissom and Dr. Sidle."

"Nice try, but you'll always be Boom Boom to me." Brass dropped the certificate on his desk and heaved a heavy sigh. "Unbelievable. You surprised me. I didn't think this was something the two of you needed."

"Well…turns out we're a little more conventional than we thought," Grissom answered, "and all joking aside, we realize this causes problems for the department and for you. We would have planned ahead but it was spontaneous."

Brass choked on the concept. "Spontaneous? The two of you?" He held up his hands. "Okay…before I get to firing you or whatever the hell it is I'm going to do about this. Tell me, did Elvis officiate? Tell me the whole story."

Sara and Grissom exchanged glances and simultaneously said, "No." Because it wasn't something they wanted to share. It was their secret story…

_**Six hours earlier**_

On the way home from the airport, Grissom, since he had been away from the office for days, announced he wanted to put in a few hours at work before going home.

Since Sara's car was still at the station from her night out with the boys, they drove there. After stealing a kiss, they both exited his car, Sara climbing into hers and Grissom heading for the building.

Once at home, Sara breezed through the house making the usual sweep…flick on some lights, head to the kitchen, listen to voicemail while popping open the fridge. The only messages were from the landscaper and Grissom's ENT office, calling to remind him of his appointment, the reschedule of the reschedule.

Tossing her purse on the counter, she opened it to pull out her wallet but noticed the Sara Grissom nametag she had stuffed in there yesterday. Retrieving it she sighed. Her discussion with Grissom was still on her mind, along with the fact that they hadn't mentioned it since they left the mountain park. Not that it bugged her. They had a fun night out followed by a wonderful night in their hotel room. Everything was fine and now that the issues were out in the open things would eventually be addressed…as always…in due time.

Leaving the nametag on the counter, she took her apple and a bottle of water and padded to the bedroom.

Airline travel always left her dehydrated and the heat of a July day in the desert didn't help matters. While chomping on her apple, she ran the bath, opting for Vanilla Bean Noel scented bubbles which, as the bottle advertised, smelled like sugar cookies pulled straight from the oven. The sales clerk at Bath and Body works had assured her it drives men crazy and sure enough, the first time she used it back in January, Grissom exclaimed, _you smell fantastic_ and couldn't get enough of her.

Once in the tub she realized it was a work night and now she'd smell like sugar cookies which would be highly distracting in the field. Oh well…she decided to indulge in the bath and then take a shower to eradicate the powerful man-toppling fragrance.

A half hour had passed before she emerged from the tub to don her favorite pink robe.

As she moved into the bedroom, much to her surprise, she heard someone walking into the room. Still on the jumpy side from the attack a couple of weeks ago, she shrieked a few times before realizing it was Grissom. "I thought you were at work!" Panting she struggled to catch her breath.

"Sorry, Honey." He hurried over to hold her. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"What are you doing home?" She clung to him waiting for her heart rate to slow.

His nose filling with the aroma of fresh baked cookies, he growled, "You smell fantastic!" He was grateful her hair was piled on top of her head, giving him a clear shot at nuzzling her neck. "I love this stuff."

"Did you smell it all the way from the lab and rush home? Nice show of priorities." She laughed. "Speaking of priorities, before I forget, your ENT's office called to remind you that you're twice re-scheduled check-up is tomorrow. You aren't going to cancel again, right? They're just going to check and tell you everything is fine."

Pulling away from the enticing smell of her damp skin, he chuckled. "You sound like a nagging wife." That's when he displayed the nametag he had found minutes before on the kitchen counter. "Is that what you're doing, Mrs. Grissom? Are you nagging me?" Her timing couldn't have been more perfect.

Finding it rather odd for him to be playful about the issue considering yesterday he was at the height of discomfort regarding it, she snatched the nametag. "We made progress so let's not start getting confused again." Smiling, she stuffed it in the pocket of her robe. "So why are you here?"

Slipping his hand in the pocket, he pulled out the nametag while whispering, "I'm here to un-confuse you about the nametag." Holding it up, he said, "You asked me yesterday, do I want people to know who you are. My answer is yes."

While studying the peculiar look in his eyes she wondered, what is that I see? A swirl of confidence and excitement? "Why are you here exactly?"

"I'm here to discuss geometry." He cryptically replied while trying to contain his excitement.

"Geometry?"

"Symmetry specifically." After tucking the controversial nametag back in her robe, he reached into his pants pocket, producing a gold velvet box. "Open it. I think you'll find the contents very _un-confusing_."

"Um…" Stunned by the scene she believed to be unfolding before her eyes; she took the box and cracked it.

"How's that for symmetry?" He adored the look of surprise on her face as she studied the matching platinum wedding bands. "Those aren't rings I want us to slip on when we're home and take off before we go to work. My intention, if you agree, is to wear them twenty-four seven."

"Are you saying…"

His voice deepened as he continued. "I'm saying that while the vows we exchanged in this room sealed us together in a marriage of true minds, and in my heart they will always be the ones that mean everything to me, I want us to exchange a few more." Taking her hand he lovingly asked, "Sara, will you legally marry me? My name, like my heart and my soul, is yours if you want it."

Throwing her arms around his neck, she ineloquently gave her reply. "I can't believe…yes…of course…YES…but how can we…what about work…what made you decide…when…"

Thrilled to hear a yes in there somewhere and anxious to end the barrage of questions, he cut off her words with a passionate kiss.

Breathless from the kiss and the shock, she gasped, "You really mean it!"

"Yes!" He took the ring box from her and returned it to his pocket.

"But what about work?"

Certain of his decision, he said, "Work has always been the priority in my life, it's time for my personal life to take a front seat."

"I don't mind moving to another position."

"Or I can." He smiled. "We'll let Jim figure it out."

"Nice avoidance!"

"I've had plenty of practice."

"When do you want to…" A smile blazed across her face as the reality hit her. "…get married."

"Viva Las Vegas, Baby. How about right now? A quick stop at 200 South Third Street and fifty-five bucks later we'll have a license. Then it's off to the chapel of your choice."

"What!" Her hands flew to her head. "Your spontaneity is killing me."

"It's like our song said…Heaven and Earth know the moment's right so why don't you come be with me. See…I was multi-tasking last night, dancing, listening and thinking. I told you I figured it out, but you didn't believe me and by the time the song ended, I chickened out." Taking her by the hand, he led her to her closet. "Do you have a white shirt?"

"You want us to do this right now!" The scene was getting more surreal by the moment. "What made you get your nerve back?"

"When I went into the lab I saw Nick through the window. I remembered what you told me he said, _why wait when you know with 100 certainty what you want for the rest of your life_. After our talk yesterday, I understand what you need and what I want so I didn't want to wait a minute longer. Consequently, I turned around and went shopping for the rings." Noting her overwhelmed expression he said, "But if you'd rather wait…"

"Are you kidding!" Lunging into her walk-in closet she surveyed her white blouses and selected the only feminine-looking one. "I'm not passing up this chance because who knows what would happen to change your mind tomorrow. That's the thing about you …you stink at making personal decisions, but once you commit and it's finalized, you're fine."

Watching her dash about the room getting ready for the occasion filled his heart with joy. "So where do you want to get hitched, Honey?" Following her lead, he went to his closet and picked a fresh black shirt.

"No Elvis, no aliens, no drive-thrus, no Liberace glitz, no themes of any kind!"

"That narrows it down to about three chapels."

"Oh my god…we're really doing this!" She exclaimed while frantically buttoning her blouse. "No one is going to believe we're doing this."

"Do you want anyone there?" He remembered they would need one witness. "We could call…"

"No way!" She released her hair from its clip. "I don't trust anyone to not pick on us about this. Just like the vows we exchanged in this room, these will only be between you and me."

"And two strangers…an appointed witness and a minister."

"We'll never see them again because I don't plan on heading to the chapel twice." Grabbing his hand, she ecstatically announced, "Let's go, Honey."

"Uh…Sweetie…you're not wearing pants."

"It would make for an interesting wedding photo." She rushed back to the closet. "Do you realize we don't have a photo together?"

"I never thought about it but yes, you're right."

"We'll need this photo to show our future child." She came out of the closet wearing black pants and sandals along with her billowy white blouse. "This is the most utterly spontaneous, wonderfully romantic, and professionally irresponsible thing I've ever done."

"Me too." He gushed.

"I'm so excited!"

"Me too!"

"That's excellent symmetry."

He took her hand. "Ready?"

"Without a doubt."

**Jim Brass's Office  
****3:35 p.m.**

Glancing down at the information on the certificate, Jim remarked, "Little Chapel of the Flowers, huh? How did you pick that one?"

"Process of elimination," Grissom replied between smiles.

"Come on, toss me a scrap." Brass laughed. "What package did you get? Did Elvis walk you down the aisle, Sara?"

"Elvis was nowhere in the building!" She assured him. "And it was called The Wonderful Weekday Wedding Package, if you must know."

"And was it wonderful?" Brass needled. "Look at you two…I'm getting a cavity. Judging from those sugary smiles on your faces I'd say it was wonderful or at a minimum, sickeningly sweet."

_**Four hours earlier…**_

License in her hand, Sara sat in the car trying to grasp the reality of the situation while Grissom drove to Little Chapel of the Flowers. "When you were filling out your application, was it weird for you to include…"

He knew exactly what she was thinking. "My parents' information?"

"Yeah…I really didn't expect to think about them right before…" Her voice faded.

"I know it's not the most optimistic reminder of the sanctity of marriage, but then I remembered our discussion in the park yesterday. We're not doomed to make the same mistakes."

"That's right." Smiling again, she said, "Do you think we'll have to wait for our turn?"

"When I spoke with the chapel while we were waiting for our license, they said we were the only ones on the schedule until five." Glancing over, he teasingly asked, "Are you getting cold feet? You're not going to leave me at the altar, are you?"

"Right." The idea amused her into a fit of laughter. "I spent how many years waiting for you? Yes, this was my ultimate plan…get you to the altar and say…never mind. Too bad you figured it out right before I executed the last step."

As they laughed, they parked the car in the chapel's parking lot. When Grissom turned to talk to Sara, all he saw was an empty seat and the passenger-side door slamming shut.

Getting out of the car, he called over to her, "You do realize you need to wait for me, right?" Taking her hand they walked into the chapel office and, once inside, the matrimonial imagery overpowered them.

Squeezing each other's hands a little tighter, they huddled next to the counter.

After filling out the required paperwork, the chapel coordinator, a sweet silver-haired woman, directed them into the waiting area where they took seats next to each other but practically sat on top of each other. Finally Grissom broke the silence with a joke. "Feel like talking Wallner lines?"

Nervous laughter ensued until Sara said, "I know we already made our commitment to one another but this seems…"

"We're ready for you," the coordinator announced.

Inhaling in unison, they readied themselves for the moment and then hand in hand followed the coordinator to the Victorian chapel.

Having opted for no music, no flowers and no walk down the aisle, they proceeded directly to the front where the official was waiting to greet them.

"Welcome, Gil and Sara," The minister in the black suit and tie greeted.

Their hand holds now a vice-grip, they acknowledged the minister with nods.

"Before we begin, I always ask my couples to think back to when they first became acquainted with one another, to that special time when all was wonderful and love seemed simple and unshakeable…a time when everything clicked."

Grinning uncontrollably, Grissom and Sara did as requested, while thinking _if this guy only knew_.

"Realize that love, while beautiful, will not always be as simple as those early days and as you forge ahead in your life together, draw upon the commitment you are about to make today to meet and overcome any challenges you may face." Briefly he chuckled, "Normally I'd ask you to face each other and hold hands, but you're ahead of me."

Their eyes spoke volumes as they both realized that, although this started out as a legal step to validate their spiritual union, it was rapidly becoming more.

The minister, quite certain the couple in front of him were more than ready to proceed, began the ceremony. "Gil, do you agree to receive Sara as your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to love and respect her, to honor and cherish her, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others as long as you both shall live?"

Sara watched Grissom open his mouth. When no words came she didn't panic, it seemed like old times and it brought her comfort because she knew the words were there waiting to be spoken. With her eyes she nudged him.

"I do." He answered while gripping her hands tighter. Once the words were out, he inhaled sharply, eager to hear them in return.

"Sara, do you agree to receive Gil as your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love and respect him, to honor and cherish him, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others as long as you both shall live?"

"I do." She gleefully replied without hesitation. "Absolutely," She added for good measure.

The happiness flowed between them and they were so lost in the moment they didn't even notice the coordinator present the ring box to the minister. "Gil…please take Sara's ring and hold her left hand." When he got no response, he tapped the groom on the shoulder. "The ring."

"Oh." He plucked Sara's ring out of the box.

"Please repeat after me, and then slip the ring on her finger. Sara, I give this ring to you as a token and promise of our constant faith and abiding love."

His hand shaking, Grissom held the shiny band in one hand and Sara's trembling hand in the other. Sara…I give this ring to you as a token and _promise_ of our constant faith and abiding love." Then he slid it on her ring finger and cradled her hand in his.

"Sara…please take Gil's ring."

Separating momentarily, Sara reached out for the remaining ring in the box. Once she was holding the platinum circle, she was overcome with emotion.

The minister proceeded. "Please repeat after me, and then slip the ring on his finger. Gil, I give this ring to you as a token and promise of our constant faith and abiding love."

Her eyes welling and her voice wavering, she clutched his hand. "Gil Grissom…I give this ring to you…as a token and _promise _of our constant faith and…abiding love." And when she glided the ring on his finger, a tear of happiness streamed down her face.

Reaching out with his left hand, he wiped away the drop, lingering his palm on her cheek, "I love you."

Placing her hand over his, she nodded.

"For as much as Gil and Sara have consented together into wedlock as witnessed here today, I now pronounce you husband and wife according to the laws of the State of Nevada."

Throwing their arms around one another, they sealed their new vows with a celebratory kiss.

The minister chuckled, "Gil, you may kiss your bride."

**Jim Brass's Office  
****3:40 p.m. **

Having fun with the happy duo, Brass reminded Sara, "You know if you haven't consummated the marriage, it's not too late for an annulment. It would save me a lot of paperwork."

"Too late." Grissom proudly blurted.

Brass checked his watch. "Damn you people work fast. You only flew into town this morning and you already got a marriage license, went to the chapel _and_ hit the sheets? I hope you showered before you came to see me."

_**Two hours ago…**_

Lying under the sheets, basking in the afterglow, Grissom and Sara held up their left hands to once again appreciate their matching rings.

Bringing her hand to his lips, he kissed the ring on her finger. "Mrs. Grissom, I never even asked you if you like the bands I picked."

"Honey, they could have been cigar bands and I wouldn't have cared." Turning her head she planted a kiss on his cheek. "But I love the ones you picked. And I love you…and I love this day." Oozing with bliss, she announced, "We actually have a certificate with a date! Now when people ask us how long we've been married, we'll have a legitimate answer. We're normal!" Her voice dropped. "Well…relatively speaking."

The totality of the situation sinking in, he said, "I think we'll be answering a lot of questions once this gets out. And I'm not just talking about questions from the team, although I expect a lion's share of harassment about this. Not that I'll mind."

"That's right." Falling back against the sheets, Sara remembered that most of the people at the lab didn't even know they were a couple. "Not to mention, we're scheduled to work tonight and I'm not allowed to work for you anymore."

The weight of responsibility finally catching up, he sighed. "We need to talk to Jim as soon as possible."

"He'll never believe us."

"He deserves a surprise after all the crap he's been giving us."

"Hey…" Sara sat up in bed. "That's not a bad idea. We'll walk in there and pull a joke on him for once! It will ease the tension before he kills us for causing problems."

"What do you have in mind?"

**Jim Brass's Office  
****3:43 p.m. **

Reclining in his chair, Brass sighed, "Okay enough with the small talk. Now I have to decide what I'm going to do about this. Long-term I'll come up with something that works for both of you."

"Thanks, Jim," Grissom nodded.

"Yeah, but first I'm punishing you for being impulsive little children!" Opening his file cabinet, he reached for the necessary paperwork. "Temporarily you leave me no choice…Sara, effective immediately you're reporting to Nick and working Days. To keep the shifts balanced, Sofia Curtis will work Nights. Actually, this is a good thing. I think it will help Days to have a little change. Sara, you'll be good for them. And maybe after Sofia spends a little time working with Catherine, she'll be grateful to return to her spot under Nick."

Grissom and Sara exchanged forlorn glances.

Brass didn't miss a beat. "Awww…you'll still see each other five hours a day, plenty of time to play …and you can always overlap doubles for a little more quality time together. Serves you right for not planning ahead."

Sara had to laugh. "That's not something I've been accused of before."

"Oh really, Boom Boom? So the limo show was planned?" Brass started penning the paperwork. "Another thing…I believe you know that Nick has a few days off starting tomorrow."

They nodded.

"Well Sara…" Brass looked up from his form. "You'll be acting Days Supervisor while he's gone because if I put any one of those power-hungry animals in charge they'll eat each other alive."

"What?" She stiffened. "But I've never even been the acting supervisor of Nights."

Glaring at Grissom, Brass informed Sara, "That had nothing to do with your ability. Your supervisor was holding you back. Probably afraid you would do a better job than him. Which I happen to think you will."

Staring at her stunned husband, Sara grinned. "Looks like you and I will be professional equals for the next few days. How's that for symmetry, Honey?"

Before Grissom could answer, Nick showed up in the doorway. "Hey, it's Boom Boom and Bug Boy!" He strolled into the room laughing.

Brass jumped on the opportunity. "Actually, it's Mr. and Mrs. Bug Boy as of four hours ago."

"Excuse me?" Nick fell silent.

Sara flashed her ring. "Sorry, you know how competitive I am. I had to beat you to the punch."

"No way!" Nick saw Grissom had a matching ring. "Congratulations, you guys."

"Thanks, Nick." Grissom appreciated the non smart-ass reaction.

"The Little Chapel of the Flowers," Brass groaned. "Can you believe it? These two are just hapless victims in another Vegas love story."

"Any pictures?" Nick was still having a hard time believing it was true.

Sara stood up. "Yes, but they won't be ready until tomorrow and you're never seeing them, because you and the other misfits, would make copies and put captions and draw missing parts on them."

"Hey." Nick rubbed his hands together. "I worked a case at a chapel once. They video everything and some of them archive it online so people who couldn't attend the ceremony can watch on the computer."

"Nice try." Grissom stood up next to Nick. "We purposely checked that off as a 'no' on the selection sheet."

Brass, already at the computer accessing the chapel website, slammed his fist on the desk. "Damn!"

"Guess who I'm working for temporarily?" Sara asked.

"Me?" Nick didn't hide his excitement. "A familiar face in a sea of people who want to drown me. That's going to be nice. Dang, I hope things keep going my way right through Saturday night."

"And guess who is swapping with Sara?" Brass couldn't wait to share the good news. "Sofia."

"Someone pinch me!" He shrieked. "This is all too good to be true."

Grissom patted Nick on the back. "Yeah, I've been feeling the same way today."

"Oh!" Nick clapped his hands. "I just remembered I have fifty bucks riding on the two of you tying the knot within a year of getting together."

"Our marriage is fodder for a bet?" Sara gawked at him.

"Hell yeah."

Brass pulled out his wallet. "Here's your fifty, Stokes. But I've got a hundred that says she'll have a bun in the oven by Thanksgiving."

"You're on."

"Hello?" Sara waved her arms. "I'm standing right here while you're making bets about my uterus."

Grissom couldn't help himself from whispering in her ear. "They have faith in the troops, Honey."

"Come on," Nick held up his winnings. "My shift is over and I'm taking the two of you out for a drink. Non-alcoholic for you Gris, since you're working tonight but the little woman can have some champagne with me. "

"Actually, I'm not drinking in case I'm…"

Brass didn't miss a beat. "Is that gun shot residue I smell?"

"No!" Sara snipped. "It wasn't a shotgun wedding!"

Nick groaned, "Damn…I think I just lost a hundred bucks."

* * *

_Next Episode: Night and Day _

_Teaser: Sara and Grissom go public while Nick takes Carrie on the trip that only comes once in a lifetime. _


	17. Heard It Through the Grapevine

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

"**Heard It through the Grapevine"**

**July 28, 2005 (Day 97)  
****Las Vegas Crime Lab  
****9:54 p.m.**

As Brass accompanied Grissom to the break room where Catherine, Warrick and Greg were pumping caffeine into their blood streams prior to shift, he imparted a final reminder. "Now remember, keep your left hand in your pocket when you're breaking the news."

"I won't let you down." Grissom rolled his eyes not particularly wanting to play this game but sensing it was important to the boss.

Brass put his game face on and opened the door. "We're uh…glad you're all here." Somberly, he shut the door and proceeded into the room next to Grissom.

"What's up?" Warrick asked while filling his mug. "Ugly case?"

"No." Brass shook his head. "We have…well Grissom really…this is kind of awkward for me. Gil, you should tell them."

With his left had firmly planted in his pocket, he cleared his throat. "Effective earlier today, Sara moved to Days. As uncomfortable as it is for me to admit this, I trust you enough to tell you…due to personal reasons; Sara won't be working for me any longer."

Brass placed a supportive hand on Grissom's shoulder. "I know how hard that was for you."

Warrick was the first to speak. "Are you sure you guys can't…"

"No." Grissom lowered his head. "I'm afraid what happened is irrevocable."

"Damn." Warrick, depressed by the thought, headed for the couch.

Greg, however, felt conflicted, wondering if he should rush to console Sara, but at the same time worried he'd be her transitional man and their relationship doomed to fail. "That's really too bad, Boss." Greg said while trying to mean it and knowing he was wrong for thinking about Sara in this manner, since he had just told everyone a few weeks ago he thought of her as a sister. Ruminating the twisted-ness, he decided, maybe I only think of her as a sister when she's_ with_ Grissom so I don't feel bad about her dissing me for him but, when she's _not _with Grissom I crush on her because she's available. Yeah…that sounds normal…at least for me.

Catherine, silent thus far, sauntered over to Grissom and stood at his side, releasing a labored sigh. "Nice try." Wrapping her fingers around his forearm, she yanked his hand out of his pocket. "I knew it."

"Stokes told you!" Brass barked.

"No."

"Then how did you know?" Brass wasn't pleased she spoiled the fun so soon.

"Jim, this is what I do for living." Catherine clarified her answer. "First clue…his standing with his left hand in his pocket, which he never does. Second clue…the words, won't be working _for me_ anymore, not _with me_. Lastly, and really this is the most critical, if Gil separated from Sara, he wouldn't be here calmly telling us, he'd be home in the fetal position losing his mind."

"Astute observations." Brass nodded. "Glad we pay you the big bucks."

Grissom laughed. "She knows me too well."

Now that she was done spoiling the fun, Catherine displayed her true feelings in a sunny smile. "Congratulations. I'm very happy for the both of you."

"Thank you," Grissom quietly acknowledged. "We're very happy about it."

"Well, you had me fooled," Warrick returned from the corner of the room.

Catherine shot her partner a teasing glance. "That's because you wanted to believe a guy could get dumped and still be coherent." Changing her voice to a demure growl, she added, "Not that you'll ever have to find out."

"Got that right," he replied while coming up behind her and standing a little too close.

Brass filled in the few blanks he knew. "Little Chapel of the Flowers earlier today, there's no video and Sara vows we'll never see the photos."

Warrick groaned, "I can understand you guys wanting some privacy for the ceremony but Gris, you could have let the guys take you out for a night…or a morning actually, on the town."

"Before you guys take him anywhere, he's mine," Catherine informed them. Pointing at Grissom she made her demands. "While your wife…oh that sounds a little odd out loud…is working today, you're having lunch with me and filling in a few blanks. It's the least I deserve, because we all know who's really responsible for this union."

Knowing she was right, he didn't hesitate. "Pick the place."

Warrick noticed Greg quietly sipping coffee at the sink. "You haven't said a word, Sanders."

Brass offered an explanation. "I think he was all set to bat clean up when he thought Sara was back on the market, then he found out the truth and now he feels guilty."

"What? That's just…" Greg's tone was indignant. "If you must know, I was thinking about the Woodward case."

"Easy there, Sport," Brass chuckled, "I was just yanking your chain."

Their attention was suddenly focused on the door opening.

Theresa from Ballistics waltzed in with a file. "There you are, Greg." She breezed by everyone and presented the paperwork. "Your results from the Woodward case."

"Thank you." He couldn't believe his luck. Turning to the naysayers, he snipped, "I told you I was worried about this case."

"Shocking!" Brass exclaimed.

Theresa, realizing she had barged in, apologized. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your meeting."

"Oh, we weren't meeting," Greg informed her. "We were just celebrating the news about Grissom's marriage."

Somewhere in the break room a pin dropped and everyone heard it.

Theresa finally broke the silence when she asked in an incredulous tone, "Did you just say Grissom got married?" In the three years she had been working at the lab, there hadn't been a trace of personal information about him in the rumor mill.

Greg felt compelled to cover his ass. "What? No one said it was a secret. Gris, you're wearing a ring. People are going to figure it out."

"It's okay, Greg." The boss held up his hands. "It's not a secret."

Feeling relieved he didn't blow it, Greg smiled. "If Sara was my wife I wouldn't be able to keep it a secret either."

"Sara?" Theresa glanced at Grissom. "Does he mean…"

Brass, in his official capacity, took over. "Yes, he means Sara Sidle, but she's no longer working for Grissom, she's working for Stokes, so there's no policy violation. I know how everyone gets crazy if there's even a chance someone is getting away with something. So please, remember to include that tidbit when you plug into the vine."

"Okay then." Theresa struggled to contain her excitement before bolting for the door. "I…uh…need to get back to my job."

Catherine translated for her boss. "That's code for, I've got the hottest piece of gossip since the Ecklie bust and I can't wait to start spreading the news."

Warrick backed her up. "Theresa is so plugged into the grapevine she pisses Merlot."

Brass patted Grissom on the back. "By the time Sara shows up for work in the morning, she'll be famous."

"Or infamous." Catherine snickered. "What time is it? Ten." She checked her watch. "I got twenty bucks that says by midnight we'll hear someone say Sara got knocked up by the boss so he had to marry her. Who's in?"

"Suckers bet." Warrick walked away. "Theresa walked out of here thinking that."

Greg made an astute observation of his own. "Grissom looks squicked out."

"You see, Greg." Catherine explained, "While the marriage is no secret, the relationship was and now people are going to fill in their own blanks. The boss man realizes this and hence…the squickiness."

Grissom's pager beeped and when he looked at the display, he said, "We got a 419."

"Saved by a DB." Warrick set his mug on the counter. "I know you're going to want to get the hell out of here, boss so, the question is who is going with you?"

"You." Grissom hurried for the door with Warrick following. When they stepped into the hallway, chatty passersby instantly hushed.

"It's just like High School," Warrick mused as they walked down the hall.

Grissom felt like a zoo animal being watched by the curious. "People didn't talk about me in High School, Warrick."

"They would have if you suddenly showed up at the prom with a cheerleader on your arm." He laughed. "You just went from ghost to scandal. Embrace the moment."

**11:47 p.m. **

On the way to Trace, Greg reviewed his progress on the Woodward case with Catherine. "With the latest report from Ballistics, we know the bullet found in Mr. Woodward was fired from the gun we found in the dumpster. A gun registered to Mrs. Woodward."

"And where was Mrs. Woodward when her gun was fired?"

"She says she was out walking the dog but, Rover isn't backing up her statement."

Catherine laughed, "Mrs. Woodward forgot that dogs are _man's _best friend."

Opening the door to the Trace lab, Catherine stepped inside and immediately noted the huddle occurring in the corner of the room between Hodges and Mabel. "Hey guys."

"What are you guys doing here?" Hodges asked while trying to contain his devious grin. "Shouldn't you be at a wedding reception?"

Never one to waste time, Catherine folded her arms across her chest and said, "Give it to me straight. What's the latest?"

Hodges was more than happy to relay the news. "After she almost got killed in the desert a few weeks ago, Grissom took her out to give her a pep talk, she got drunk and needy, he pounced on the opportunity, they woke up the next morning at some motel off the strip and yesterday, when she told him the rabbit died, he insisted on marrying her."

Catherine turned to Greg. "How we doing on time?"

"11:51 p.m." He shook his head. "Damn, you're good, Catherine."

**July 29, 2005 (Day 98)  
****Grissom's Office  
****5:14 a.m.**

Safely stowed away in his office, Grissom sat tackling the pile of paperwork that had built up while he was away at the convention. It was a nice distraction from the hoopla about his marrying Sara.

When he and Warrick returned from the field at three-fifteen this morning, Greg promptly informed him of the latest word in the corridors. A drunken one-night stand resulted in a surprise pregnancy. And, as if that wasn't bad enough, a fevered debate between lab gossips ensued regarding motivation. Half of the shift was certain that Sara, someone who always appeared needy and was rumored to have had a drinking problem at one time, had trapped Grissom into marrying her, while the other half believed she's mortified but went through with the shotgun marriage just to keep her job at the lab because she is a workaholic and has no life.

It was a lot to handle for such a private person but, in every version of the story, he realized he looked a hell of a lot better than Sara. In one scenario he was a victim, in the other a stand up guy…albeit sexually irresponsible in both cases. She was so happy about the marriage, he hated for it to be tainted by such randy gossip.

The ring of his cell phone caught his ear and when he saw it was his house phone number, he smiled. "Good morning, wife."

"Good morning, husband."

"How was your honeymoon night?" He relaxed in his chair. "I spent mine with Warrick, scooping up dirt around a DB. "

"Hey, at least you didn't spend your honeymoon night _alone_." She groaned then asked, "How did the team take the news?"

"Catherine is making me take her to lunch to fill in some blanks, Warrick was happy and Greg broke down in tears when he realized he was never going to have you."

"Aren't you full of yourself this morning?"

"It's not my fault." He chuckled. "It's the gossip mill pumping my ego. Which reminds me…remember how you wanted to be able to go public with our marriage?"

"Yes…"

"Well you know the saying…be careful what you wish for because you may get it. This whole place knows we're married and they've been speculating the details all night. Greg keeps me posted on the latest."

"Are the stories romantic?" She asked with a lilt in her voice. "A tale of two lab rats who one day, after years of working together, fell in love and married?"

"Ah…I haven't heard that one yet." While he was debating how he should break the news, Greg darted in the office yelling, "Here's a new one…Sara got you drunk and used you for your seed, because her biological clock was ticking and she needed someone who was desperate and had a high IQ. But even though they believe you were hard up and a victim of a shameless ploy, you get points for being a stud!"

Through the phone, Grissom heard Sara shriek, "What did Sanders just say?"

"Um…" Grissom pointed to his cell phone. "Greg, can't you see I'm on the phone?"

"Sorry." He scooted out of the office.

"Honey…that's what I was trying to tell you. The stories…they aren't that romantic. But it shouldn't be a surprise, we knew how things work around here, that's why we kept our relationship a secret for so long." Cringing he dropped the bomb. "They think we spent one drunken night together and you got pregnant so we had a shotgun wedding." There really wasn't any need to tell her the other _minor _details.

"What!"

"Well it must look a little odd to…"

"I'm not pregnant!"

He quickly reminded her, "Well, you could be, and if you are, as long as you don't deliver early everyone will think it's a honeymoon baby." He puffed up. "You know…first time's a charm."

"I have to prove I'm not pregnant!"

Feeling bad for her, he dropped his ego-driven tone. "What are you going to do, pull blood, do a test and hang the results on the communication board?"

"You'll see! I'm on my way in right now."

Before he could reply, the call ended. "Hopefully something else scandalous will happen soon and we'll be yesterday's news."

**McCarran Airport  
****5:37 a.m. **

The day of the mystery trip had finally arrived and Carrie, a Mexican Jumping Bean disguised as a girl, could barely contain herself. "We're at the airport!"

"What gave that away? The jets flying overhead, or the armed guards?" Nick, playing it cool, pulled their bags out of the trunk. "You still don't know where we're flying."

"You said bring a swim suit so I'm guessing an island."

"You said 'should I bring a swim suit' and I said, 'sure'. " Slinging their bags over his shoulders he grinned. "We're going to New York."

"New York!" She gushed with excitement. "What are we going to do there?"

"You'll find out when we get there," He mysteriously replied. Little did she know they would be switching airlines and heading off to Paris.

She simultaneously wanted to kiss him and kill him. "The game continues."

"Yes, ma'am."

**Las Vegas Crime Lab  
****5:42 a.m. **

She wasn't three steps from her parked car when Sara heard, "Hey look, it's Mrs. Grissom," coming from a gaggle of smokers hanging out on the patio.

Happy with her new title, Sara held her head high and walked over to the nicotine bingers….Mabel, Theresa and Kevin. "Good morning." Coyly wrapping her hands around the patio railing, she displayed her wedding band on her left hand and her diamond ring on her right. Yes…while the wedding band could be the product of a shotgun wedding, a diamond ring was another story. The women at the table, Mabel and Theresa instantly caught the glint. "So, I take it you heard the news."

"Someone mentioned something," Mabel nonchalantly replied. "Congratulations."

"Thank you." Sara relaxed her shoulders. Grissom was exaggerating. These people weren't malicious. "Okay, well, I need to get inside and prepare for shift. I'll see you around."

"Bye, Sara." The threesome sang in an innocent chorus.

Walking away, Sara smiled…until she turned the corner and heard the loud lab rats speculating._ Did you see those diamonds? Uh huh. He's her sugar daddy! Explains the age thing. Bet she takes him for a ride. I think taking him for a ride is what got her the ring. And a bun in the oven. Do you think her squeezing out a puppy is part of the arrangement? She's over thirty; why not go for someone younger? Come on, he doesn't want to look like a letch with some chippy young enough to be his daughter. Sara's under the radar…old enough not to raise suspicion but young enough to get the job done. Think they ever got it on in the lab? Brown and Willows have. Really? When? Oooh, does anyone have details of Warrick's fine bod? Really Kevin, give it up, how many times do we have to tell you, Warrick is straight._

Aghast at the viciousness of the gossipmongers, she fought the urge to correct their misperceptions. Well, except for the comments about Warrick, which were all true. Realizing direct confrontation wasn't a viable option, she chose instead to stick to her plan and headed into the building.

She wasn't three steps inside when she heard, "Hey look, it's Mrs. Grissom," coming from Vartann's mouth.

"You too, huh?" Sara readied herself for the next round. "Go ahead, take your best shot."

"What?" He smiled. "I'm really happy for the two of you. I've suspected for years there was something going on there, but when we were out at Dales Trail I knew for sure. Grissom seemed so worried about you that day…and that was before you were attacked. I knew for sure the two of you were a couple." Playfully, he tapped her on the shoulder. "So, did the near death experience make him realize how good he had it, and he finally popped the question?"

Finally, a decent story! "Yes." A bright smile dawned on her face. "Are you by any chance going outside to smoke?"

"Yeah."

"Feel free to talk about Grissom and me while you're out there. You know…as someone who knows the_ true_ story."

"Gossip mill's pretty nasty, huh?"

"I'm not pregnant!" Sara blurted to Vartann as several cops with big ears strolled by. On the way out the door she heard them mumbling. _Whoa…Isn't Vartann married? Yeah, but not to that CSI chick. I thought she was a lesbian. Nah, she slept with Greg Sanders. Isn't Sanders gay? Can one of you spot me a cigarette?_

Vartann posited, "Sara, if you're a lesbian and Greg is gay, and the two of you slept together, does that make you a straight couple?"

"Please help me." She pleaded.

"Okay, okay." Vartann tried not to laugh. "I'll help clear up you and Grissom, but Sanders is on his own concerning his sexuality."

"Thank you." Certain she would finally have a friend on the smokers' patio, Sara proceeded to the lab.

She made the journey quickly while mentally blocking out everyone in her path and when she reached Grissom's office she slipped inside and shut the door. "I had no idea it was this bad!"

"I tried to warn you." Sitting at his desk, he enjoyed the view. "You look beautiful this morning."

"Haven't you heard?" She plopped into a side chair. "I'm glowing from being pregnant with your baby. A baby I owe you in return for you being my Sugar Daddy! They think I'm a uterus for hire!"

"I hadn't heard that one yet." Seeing her so vexed tore at his heart. "Are you sorry we got…"

"Of course not." She took a deep breath and really looked at him for the first time. "Nothing anyone could say would make me regret our marriage." Suddenly everything was right in the world again. "We're married."

"I know." He grinned and for a minute they only spoke with their eyes and then he needed to change the subject. "So uh…one hour until your supervisory debut. Are you ready?"

"After sharing your shadow, for years I know every procedure by heart. Yesterday Nick briefed me on everyone and last night I studied all the pending cases …twice." She changed to a sultry tone. "I had to do _something _while I was home missing you. Studying case files seemed like an innocent way to pass the time while I was in bed…alone…wanting you."

Trying not to fall for her charms, he replied, "I'll be staying until ten if you need to consult with me."

Leaning forward, she whispered, "My shift ends at four. I figure I'll need to put in at least a couple of extra hours…"

"Seven thirty?" He raised a brow.

She raised one of hers. "Happy hour?"

"You can't drink." He replied, knowing her reference had nothing to do with alcohol.

Reclining in her chair, she purred, "Then I guess I'll have to find another way to relax." Penetrating his eyes with hers, she added, "I'm thinking of a few enjoyable _alternatives_ right now." Running her fingertip over her lip she sighed, "Mmm…yeah…that would feel so good…and that too, and…mmm definitely."

"You're killing me right here in my office." He covered his face with a hand. "We've never talked like this in my office."

"Well…I don't work for you anymore and I'm not the same woman I was the last time I was in here." A delicious grin consumed her mouth. "Besides…I'm not doing anything unprofessional. I'm only speaking to my co-worker. Now if my co-worker is taking my words and attributing certain salacious feelings or visual images to them, why should I be responsible? I was thinking about a bubble bath, some herbal tea and nice read. Now…what were you thinking?"

"Aren't you feisty today?" He inhaled deeply, hoping to calm down. "I think marriage agrees with you, Mrs. Grissom."

"I think it does." She beamed. "I feel great…even though people are talking crap about me in every corner of this building." Suddenly she stood up. "Which reminds me, it's time to put this pregnancy rumor to an end."

"What are you…"

"You'll hear about it through the grapevine."

Before he knew it, she was out the door, and since he was in no condition to follow her, he stayed put in his chair.

Heading down the hall, Sara searched for Greg and was relieved to find him in a lab with none other than Hodges…a perfect audience. "Hey, Greg, she greeted as if nothing had changed."

"Sara…congratulations." Greg jumped up. "You look great."

"She's _glowing_," Hodges snickered in the corner.

"Thank you, Greg." She ignored Hodges. "I was wondering if you could do me a favor. I need to present at the community college next week…you know how I do those mini lectures. This time I'm presenting proper lab procedure, so I need to document a simple lab test from start to finish and was wondering if you could help me. I cleared it with Grissom so…"

"Yeah, I bet you had a real hard time getting the boss to say yes to you." Hodges choked on his own laughter. "Did you have to get on your knees and beg?"

Ignoring him once more, Sara walked over and grabbed the necessary supplies.

Greg, always willing to help Sara, followed her. "What test do you want to run?"

Placing all the supplies on the table, she explained, "I wanted something real simple so I thought why not do a blood draw and test for hCG?" She knew even if she and Grissom were successful in Colorado Springs, it was much too early to get a positive result because you needed eight days and it had only been two.

"Um…okay." He couldn't believe Sara was doing this test with Hodges in the room. He also wondered why she wasn't doing it with Grissom? Most of all, he was shocked she was wasting lab resources. Everyone did from time to time, but not Sara, she was far too responsible. Then again she did play hooky and get married….

"Glove up, Greg." Sara grabbed a notebook and started jotting the pertinent information. "Next step…draw a sample from the victim." She glared at Hodges. "I am feeling a little victimized today so I can't think of a better candidate." Surprised by Greg's gentle blood draw technique she praised him. "You're great, Greg."

Hodges burst out laughing. "I bet that's the first time he's heard that coming from a woman's mouth other than his mama's."

Greg snapped, "Don't you have someplace to be, Hodges!"

"No!" Sara countered. "I mean…can't we all get along?" The gossipy witness was critical to the plan.

Greg capped the vial. "You want me to run it?"

"Please. I'm busy writing notes." Placing a cotton ball in the crook of her arm, she watched Hodges gravitate toward Greg.

"Need any help with that?" Hodges graciously offered. "I mean now that you're in the field you're probably not half the man you were in the lab." He snorted. "What does that make you now? One sixteenth of a man?"

Rolling his eyes, Greg performed the test while Sara sat at the table calmly writing, and Hodges salivated for the juicy tidbit he was about to receive.

When Greg completed the test, he printed off the results and handed it to Sara. "Minimum requirement for a positive result is 5 IU/L. Your blood has zero hCG."

"What!" Hodges gasped.

Sara stared him down. "The evidence doesn't lie."

Determined to get something out of the set-up, Hodges snipped, "Using _County resources_ to end gossip?"

"Using _County time_ to spread gossip?" Sara countered before returning to her notes. "Besides, I'm not wasting resources, because I'm not lying. I am presenting at the Community College. Catherine and I take turns every other month." Returning her gaze to Hodges, she nonchalantly said, "Maybe when it's my turn to present on Narcissistic Personality Disorder you can accompany me as Exhibit A."

"I'm out of here." Hodges fled the lab.

"Yes!" Greg celebrated. "You gave rat boy the smack down just like you did Lady Heather. Boom Boom may be married but she's still spunky!"

* * *

_Next Episode: Night and Day – Part 1_

_Teaser: Shift happens…_


	18. Night and Day Part 1

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by Ms. Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

"**Night and Day"**

**July 29, 2005 (Day 98)  
****Las Vegas Crime Lab  
****Nick Stokes's Office  
****6:45 a.m.**

Sara was sitting at Nick's desk reviewing case files when Catherine strolled in with a Starbucks Venti cup and a small paper bag.

"Compliments of the Night Shift Supervisor, who thought it best to be discreet." Smiling, she set the items on the desk. "He didn't send a note or give me a message to pass along, but I'm pretty sure you know how he feels."

"Yes, for once…I'm really sure." Try as she might, she couldn't stop the gushy smile from spreading. "And, from the look on my face, I'm sure you know how I feel."

"Congratulations on legalizing." Tired from shift, she dropped into a side chair. "The ring looks as good on you as it does on him."

"Thank you, and I don't mean for the compliment…for your little nudges along the way that got us this far. Make him take you out for a really nice lunch." Sara brought the coffee cup to her nose and breathed in the delicious aroma. "Mmm…perfect."

"Couldn't help but notice that's decaf. Which is ironic because I just heard Hodges telling Diane you're _not_ pregnant." Catherine smirked. "Safely under the eight day test window, just in case, huh?"

Pulling out her chocolate chip muffin, Sara didn't answer.

"Tell me…" Catherine found the situation highly amusing. "Since you were hoping to get pregnant _before_ you knew you were getting married, how were you planning to explain the pregnancy to the curious hoard?"

"I never thought about it. I blocked it actually." Her smile fading, she plucked off a hunk of muffin. "I was living in a fantasy world. It would have been brutal."

"Yeah well…don't worry, right now you're the talk of the town but they'll move on once the shock wears off." In a cocky tone, she added, "Although I know they still talk about Warrick and me, but who can blame them?"

"Yeah, trust me, they do. And watch out for Kevin from Trace because he wants your man."

"Who doesn't?" She flipped her hair off her shoulder. "Except you of course."

Focused on herself, Sara prodded, "So what are they going to think now that I'm _not_ pregnant?"

"Well, Theresa was telling Diane and Hodges, that Vartann told her, he knew you and Grissom were engaged for a while. I heard her say that after you almost died in the desert, Grissom begged you to marry him now, rather than waiting for your November wedding date."

"Thank you Vartann!" In celebration, Sara took a swig of decaf.

"Good morning, Ladies!" Brass strutted into the room with a bounce in his step.

Catherine immediately picked up on his demeanor. "Finally find something better than banana bread?"

"As a matter of fact…" Grinning, he adjusted his tie. "…never you mind."

"Oooh…sounds scandalous," Sara teased. "Come on, it will help Grissom and I out if you have some tawdry love affair."

"Unlike you, I keep my love life a secret, so let's just leave it at I'm a very _happy boy_." He took a seat in the empty chair next to Catherine and asked Sara, "So do you have the scoop on this merry band of misfits you're about to lead?"

Catherine huffed, "No kidding. I've been in your shoes a few times, Sara and let me tell you, supervising this crew can make root canal seem like a fun way to spend the afternoon."

"I've got Nick's take on the situation, but now tell me yours."

She took the liberty of running through the cast of characters. "Trey Riggs…a pompous ass who feels anything but the hottest case is beneath him. Nina Birch…a Sofia wannabe and she must be doing a good job being Sofia because, most people who have dealt with her call her, Nina _Bitch_ not Birch. Pete Jones…disgruntled from not getting the supervisor spot instead of the guy Ecklie brought in, and now as I understand it, he is doubly disgruntled from not getting the supervisor spot over Nick, who he feels is a night shift bottom feeder. They never had much respect for Night Shift thanks to Ecklie's distaste for Grissom." Turning to Jim, she laughed, "But I'm sure they won't hold their dislike of Grissom against Sara because, what does she have to do with him?"

Brass casually replied, "You mean aside from being pregnant with his child after their drunken one night stand at the no-tell motel?"

"That's last night's news," Sara happily reported. "I'm not pregnant. And Grissom and I were engaged before we decided to push up our wedding date."

"So now they'll think you _wanted _to marry him instead of having to marry him?" Brass chortled. "Yeah, that will help them hate you more."

Catherine tried to be optimistic. "Maybe the new girl will respect you."

Brass nodded. "Mindy Kapoor…she's scared shitless of her predatory team members. I told Nick if she can't turn it around, he's going to have to let her go. She can't be intimidated in the field."

Checking her watch, Catherine jumped up from her seat. "I'm off the clock. Good luck, Sara." At the door she yelled back, "I'm going home to get some rest before my date with your husband."

"Make sure Hodges knows your plans," She joked before glancing at Jim. "Next rumor they'll have Grissom taking everyone else's women…even your new mystery lady."

Knowing the scenario, he choked out, "I doubt you'd like that."

Simultaneously, Brass's and Sara's pagers signaled and shifted their attention.

"It's show time and a double homicide no less." He stood up and winked. "Make me proud, young lady."

His confidence in her was a cherry on top of an already extraordinary twenty four hours. "Yes, Dad," Sara teased, before taking one last sip of coffee and following Brass out of the room. "Don't worry, I will do a good job, because I've got something to prove."

He couldn't resist. "Is that what you said to Grissom in back of the limo, Boom Boom?"

"Way to separate yourself from the pack, Jim. Instead of taunting me about the current scandal, you opt for the old one."

"What can I say, I'm nostalgic."

**McCarran Airport  
****7:02 a.m. **

Seated in the boarding area, Carrie, now fueled with one pertinent piece of information, grilled Nick. "What made you pick New York?"

"Convenience." As in it's the quickest way to get from here to Paris today, Baby.

"Convenience?" Surprised by his answer, she knitted her brows. "Not very romantic, Stokes."

"Sorry, Honey." He pecked her cheek. "I try, but in this case, I put practicality over romance. I won the tickets to New York in some casino contest last year and never used them so, when I wanted to take you somewhere, I thought I'd use the tickets."

Feeling bad about her insensitive comment she sweetly said, "Honey, we could go camping for all I care. I'm just happy you asked me to go away with you."

"You like to camp?" Immediately he pictured taking the future Stokes family for an adventure in the great outdoors.

"I camped once when I was a Girl Scout."

"I bet you were a very good Girl Scout…all that planning and rule following."

"Let's just say I earned so many badges I ran out of room on my vest." She elbowed him. "Oh please…I bet your Boy Scout shirt was covered in patches." His 'aw shucks' grin supplied her answer. "Hmm…do you think an overachieving Girl Scout and an overzealous Boy Scout could live together without driving each other crazy?"

He couldn't believe she was asking him a significant question before he asked her one. Although he was certainly hoping they'd move in together after getting engaged. "Are you asking me to shack up with you, Baby?"

"Is that what I just did?" A nervous giggle followed. "It probably goes against the Girl Scout honor code I vowed to follow for the rest of my life."

"You'll be expelled from the sisterhood."

"You're right." Straightening up in her chair, she sighed. "Forget I mentioned it."

"If you insist." Inwardly he smiled. Knowing her desire to cohabitate definitely boosted his confidence regarding a _yes _answer tomorrow in Paris.

_Flight 534 to New York is now boarding rows 20-35_

"That's us, Honey." Nick took her hand. "New York City he we come." For approximately one hour and fifteen minutes while we wait to board our flight to Paris. I can't wait to see the look on your face when I tell you.

**Crime Lab Conference Room B**

**7:04 a.m.**

Despite Brass's reminder of her notorious nickname and the fact that every whisper in the building was seedy speculation on her personal life, Sara held her head high as she walked into the conference room to greet her new team mates. "Good morning, guys." She flashed her warmest smile and in return got nothing. "Uh…before I get down to business in a minute, I just want to say that I'm really excited to be a part of the team. I've worked with all of you before, except you, Mindy." Extending her hand, she said, "Hi, I'm Sara Sidle, nice to meet you." The timid twenty-four year old returned the greeting without making eye contact.

"Don't you mean, _Mrs. Gil Grissom_?" Trey hissed.

Realizing the elephant in the room was taking up too much space, Sara decided to speak to it. "Okay…I know you all know that Gil Grissom and I married recently. I assure you, there's nothing scandalous about it. We're just two lab rats who met at work and tied the knot. There are at least six other married couples working here at the station and it's really no big deal. Oh, and at work, to answer your question, Trey, I will continue to use my professional name, Dr. Sara Sidle."

Nina smiled. "Hey, if boinking the boss got you bumped to Days, and consequently sent Sofia packing to Nights then, let me be the first to say, welcome."

"Uh…thanks." Sara added a note in her mental profile regarding Nina…passive aggressive tendency. "As much as I'd like to continue this bonding session, we've got a double homicide to process. I'm going to take Mindy and Pete with me and I'll have…"

"Hold up!" Trey shook his head. "If there's a double homicide, I'm working it not _Minnie_."

Sara gently pushed back. "It's my call. I'm taking _Mindy_ and Pete. You and Nina have reports to finish and if something else comes up, I'll send it your way."

Not satisfied with the answer, Trey snapped, "You don't understand."

Since playing nice wasn't working, she toughened. "This isn't a negotiation. I'm handing out the assignments and you'll work what is given to you."

Trey snipped, "Is that how the Night Shift Supervisor talked to you?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." Turning on her heels, she headed out the door. "Mindy you ride with me. Pete, meet us there. I'll write the address down for you."

In the conference room, Trey and Nina exchange pissed off glances until Trey grumbled, "As if _Good 'ol Boy _Stokes isn't bad enough, now we have Grissom's wench barking at us."

"She's exercising a little power." Nina smoothed her long blonde hair. "I can't blame her after taking it from the boss all those years."

"You don't think she was _giving it_ to the boss all those years?"

Even though they loathed each other, they shared a laugh.

Leaving the table, Nina said, "If she was giving it to him for years, then she must be pretty bad in the sack because Grissom always seemed a little pent up to me."

Trey followed her. "Do you think it started after he grew the beard?"

**Flight 534 Las Vegas to New York  
****7:52 a.m. **

"So…" Carrie wasn't sure how she'd stay buckled in her seat for the five hour flight and they hadn't even taxied yet. "Where are we going to stay?"

Nick flipped through the in flight magazine. "A French hotel."

"Which one?"

"Le something."

"We don't have to eat at the hotel, right?" Carrie cautiously asked. "Because I really don't like French food."

"Oh...no…we don't have to eat French food." No French food in France? Then he realized they must have Italian in France. "I'm sure it won't be a problem."

Relaxing in her seat, Carrie told him. "I went to France the summer of my freshman year of high school with my parents. What a nightmare. Not a place I ever want to visit again as long as I live."

"R…really?" Those were not words he needed to hear.

"Yeah. It was so bad, I haven't even thought of traveling abroad since." Pulling down the shade screen on her window, she sighed, "That's why I didn't even bother to renew my passport when it expired a couple of months ago."

"What!" Wendy gave him the passport, but he never thought to check the expiration date. "What do you mean you let your passport expire!"

Laughing, she informed him, "While some people may think New York is a foreign place, you don't need a passport to go there."

**Hart Residence  
****7:55 a.m. **

When Sara arrived on the scene with Mindy, who didn't utter a word in the truck on the way to the scene, she was happy to see a friendly face. "Well, if it isn't my knight-in-shining-armor, Detective Vartann."

Pretending to tip a hat, he replied, "At your service, milady."

Mindy followed Sara to the front door and Pete was coming up the walk behind her.

Shifting to the business at hand, Sara asked, "What do we have?"

"Male vic…Denny Hart, forty-nine, divorced, owner of the residence. Female vic…Steffi Branson, twenty-nine, single, _guest_ of the owner. Both bodies are on the living room floor. No wounds, no sign of struggle, but we're calling it homicide because giant red letter A's are drawn in lipstick on the backs of their shirts."

"Scarlet red?" Sara asked.

"I'm a guy. I don't know the difference between red and scarlet red. Anyway, isn't that your job?" He laughed. "According to a neighbor, Denny started having sleepover parties with Steffi, about a month ago after Mrs. Hart moved out. Jenny Hart, forty-eight, whereabouts currently unaccounted for."

Pete decided to announce the motive. "Sounds like Mr. Hart traded in the old model for a newer one." Eyes locked on Sara he said, "You know…some men like 'em younger."

Sara politely reminded her co-worker, "When I work a scene I prefer to acquire all pertinent information before making judgments. So let's shift our focus back to the scene."

"Married less than a day and you already sound like Grissom." Laughing, Vartann lifted the crime tape. "Your bodies await, milady."

Sara went under, followed by Mindy then Pete, all three clicking on their flashlights and walking toward the living room. Phillips was already there. "Hey, Sara."

"Hey, David." Setting down her kit, she turned to Mindy. "Acquaint yourself with the scene and then tell me your observations." Next she looked at Pete. "Check the fridge and the…."

"You got a craving?" He cracked.

"Yes." Not amused, she shined her flashlight in his face. "I crave an answer to the question, what killed these two people lying on the floor surrounded by their own spew?"

Phillips chuckled, "You sound like Brass."

"Thank you." Sara couldn't help but smile. So far she sounded like Grissom and Brass, she wondered when Catherine's influence would manifest. "Oh and Pete, about the fridge…with no wounds and no signs of struggle, I'm wondering if it's something they ate that killed them, which makes me want to know what's in the kitchen…which includes the fridge. So I wouldn't sneak any snacks while in there if I were you. Bag and tag everything."

Kit in hand, Pete marched toward the kitchen.

After walking the perimeter of the room, Mindy came to rest next to Sara.

"Thoughts?" Sara prompted.

"The couple was going to be drinking wine….Merlot to be exact. I say going to because I don't see evidence of the wine in their vomit. The bottle is on the table along with one full glass, the other glass is on the floor, but it's standing up, not lying down, which tells me someone righted the glass. Approximately a foot away from the empty glass, there is a wet spot in the rug…slightly foamy and smells of cleaning product…the wine spilled and someone took the time to clean the stain."

"Who would do that?" Sara prodded.

"Someone who cares about the house and wants to preserve the rug." Taking a breath she answered, "Someone like the woman who decorated the house…perhaps Mrs. Hart. She was upset that Mr. Hart was replacing her and enacted revenge for his infidelity. That's why the_ scarlet_ letters, like in the book…she wants everyone to know they're guilty of adultery. So she poisons them, in hiding, watches them suffer, and when they're dead, she comes out of hiding to write the letters. That's also when she cleaned the wine stain."

"You read a lot, Mindy?"

"Yes, quite a bit actually."

"Me too." Sara smiled and was pleased to see she got one in return. "Excellent assessment. What next?"

**The Cheesecake Factory  
****11:03 a.m. **

"I was surprised you wanted to come here again so soon," Grissom remarked as he slid into the booth.

"I want to bring some cheesecake home for dessert later." Catherine relaxed on her side of the booth. "Warrick and I are celebrating an anniversary today."

"Which one?"

"We celebrate unconventional anniversaries." Spreading her napkin over her skirt, she grinned. "If I told you specifically which one, I fear you'd be a little uncomfortable." She adored his puzzled expression. "Let's just say, the cheesecake will be _utilized_ during the celebration."

"I…"

"Maybe you should bring some cheesecake for Sara to enjoy when she gets home from her shift today." Grinning, Catherine smoothed her napkin. "I assume you'll be marking your one day anniversary during the two glorious hours you'll see each other today."

Finally he could track her. "Yes, we plan to make the most of our time together this evening."

"Hey you two!" Tawny bounded over with two glasses of ice water and placed them on the table. "Did Greggy tell you I'd be working?"

"Hello, Tawny." Grissom greeted her with a pleasant smile. "Greg can't stop talking about you." Yes, as a matter of fact, just last night he shared _every last detail_ about you with Warrick while I was in the room, and I'm trying very hard not to remember several of those details right now.

Catherine smiled. "So you stole our little Greggo's heart, huh?" Actually, from what Warrick told me, I believe it is another part of Greg's body you've captivated.

"He's such a sweetie." Tawny plopped down in the booth next to Grissom. "Thanks so much for introducing us that night at Tweeters." Eternally grateful, she took the kind man's hand in hers. "Greg is the best thing that's happened to me in _weeks_."

Just then, Mabel and Theresa from Trace strolled by behind the hostess.

Catherine was the first to notice the untimely gawkers. "Hi, ladies." The looks on their faces were priceless. "Care to join our threesome?"

Grissom couldn't believe his bad luck.

"Uh…" Theresa looked at Mabel. "Actually, we're planning a baby shower for a friend so we need to…"

"Maybe another time." Catherine waved as they kept walking. "Tawny, Honey, can you send those women a round of drinks compliments of Mr. Grissom?"

"Sure." She slid out of the booth. "And what can I get the two of you?"

Catherine decided for the both of them. "Luxury Martinis, because we're celebrating."

"Be right back."

Grissom shook his head at his lunch mate. "Care to join our threesome?"

"That's how you deal with those guttersnipes. They're going to talk no matter what, and if you hide, they'll feed on your insecurity." She took a sip of water. "Okay, blank filling time begins now."

After a gulp from his glass, he asked, "What do you want to know? Why we married so quickly and privately?"

"Nah…are you kidding? I can't imagine the two of you doing it any differently. You're not the, 'stand up in front of a room full of people and wear your hearts on your sleeves', types." Curiosity filled her voice. "But I do want to know, did she propose to you, or did you propose to her?"

"I proposed." He proudly admitted. "Shocked the hell out of her as a matter of fact."

"I bet you did." She loved his expression. "What motivated you? Because for once I know it wasn't me."

"The moment was right." He unfurled his napkin and placed it on his lap. "At the conference…I uh…I realized that I had wasted a lot of time over the years and…"

When he floundered, she helped him out. "Your birthday is around the corner. So, I'm guessing turning forty-nine for a man is a lot like thirty-nine for a woman. It sucks." She laughed. "Of course, now I'd love to be thirty-nine again."

"Catherine…do you ever worry that…"

"Two luxury martinis." Tawny gently placed them on the table. "Is it okay if I come back for your orders in a bit?"

"Take your time," Catherine advised. Knowing exactly where Grissom was going with his question, she answered. "Do I ever worry if the ravages of time will send Warrick shopping for a younger version?" Lifting her martini, she groaned, "Hell, yeah. I wouldn't be human if I didn't."

He raised his glass with her and they both took a sip.

After smacking her vermouth covered lips, she said, "The thing is, when guys age…you get a little grey, you sprout a few character lines and suddenly you're distinguished. Women are often more attracted to older men because they sense this stability factor…you can take care of them. A man's odds of getting a date increase even as he ages. Hell, I bet Sara wouldn't have been interested in you when you were twenty-eight…forgetting for a moment she would have been fourteen and speaking figuratively."

Considering what Sara had told him in Colorado Springs, as well as remembering what he was like at twenty-eight, Catherine was absolutely right.

"Women, we just get old, and we're out there competing with Tawny, who isn't experiencing the harsh effects of gravity yet. Our odds of getting a date plummet as we age, which of course is ironic because we couldn't be hungrier physically."

"You'll always be a beautiful woman, Catherine." It was hard hearing her talk this way about herself. "And beyond that, you have a life force that people can't help but envy. I know I always have."

"Thank you. I appreciate the sentiment." After another hearty sip, she sighed, "Hey, I'm not the one who is supposed to be bearing their soul, that's not how these lunches work, so let's return you to the spotlight again. Now, you don't honestly worry that Sara will trade you in for a boy toy in a few years, do you?"

"No." He sipped his drink. "But…"

"Come on, I told you my biggest fear, let's have some reciprocity. We've been doing this for nearly a year now and you've come so far. Spill it." Again she raised her glass. "What are you possibly worried about now that you have that ring on your finger?"

Clearing his throat, he reluctantly shared his, most likely unwarranted fear. "The dynamics of my relationship with Sara are changing just when I got comfortable with how it used to be. Partnership is something I…I mean, I know the change is necessary, but I'm afraid if she doesn't need me to take care of her the way she used to, and if she's not…for the lack of a better word…_chasing_ me anymore…once the excitement of the marriage wears off…"

"Ahh." Catherine tapped her nails on the table. "The old, _now that I got what I always wanted it's not as exciting as it used to be,_ scenario."

"The law of diminishing returns." He lifted his glass once more. "To use your words…I wouldn't be human."

"Hey, it's a valid concern."

When Grissom choked on his cocktail, Catherine realized she phrased her reply incorrectly. "I mean it's _generically valid_ considering the scenario, but I don't think in a million years Sara will ever toss you into the scrap heap."

After coughing into his napkin, Grissom grabbed his ice water.

"Sorry." Catherine chuckled into her martini as she lightened the mood. "Isn't there still one thing Sara needs from you? Didn't she chase you to Colorado for it?"

Sheepishly, he replied, "She may already have it, we'll know in approximately six to ten days."

"And don't you think she's going to need you if that test shows a positive result?"

"Yes, of course she will and I intend to be there every step of the way."

Catherine leaned into the conversation. "Now that you're married she just needs some different things."

"Like what?" He curiously asked, hoping to receive an easy to follow list.

"First of all, fear not, she still needs all the things she couldn't count on when she was single: someone to share her life with…a shoulder to lean on in times of need…pampering…nice jewelry…some_one_ instead of some_thing_ to satisfy her needs in bed." Sensing she had lost him on that one, she broke out laughing. But then again, he wasn't the one who searched Sara's bedroom back when they were looking for a lead on where Sara was staying in Tahoe, so maybe he didn't know he had replaced another'man' in her life. Finally calming herself, she added one more thing. "Cheesecake…she needs plenty of intimate evenings filled with cheesecake."

While inhaling the information, he exhaled a sigh of relief that he knew how to give her all those things. Comforted by that thought, he forged on into the unknown territory. "You said _first of all_, what else is there?"

After finishing her drink, she continued her tutorial. "The new thing she needs, which I doubt she's gotten much of in the past is, for you to lean on her. Instead of being the one taking care of her all the time, you need to let her take care of you…and I don't mean in bed."

"What exactly…"

"Next time you have a problem go to her with it and lean on her shoulder." Relaxing against the back of the booth, she smiled. "She wants to be your partner, and partnership is a two way street. Show her you need her intellectually and emotionally…she'll be thrilled." She snickered. "Almost as thrilled as she is when you bring home cheesecake."

"Are you ever going to tell me specifically about the cheesecake?"

"Nope." A delicious grin sprouted on her face. "Just bring it home and see where it leads…literally."

Tawny returned with her order pad. "Okay, sorry for the wait. What can I get you today, ma'am?"

"I'll start with you calling me Catherine instead of ma'am. If you ever call me ma'am again, it's going to get ugly."

"Oh…okay." Tawny wasn't sure why, but she was always one to go with the flow.

Grissom lowered his head as he laughed.

"For lunch, I'll have a salmon salad."

"One salmon salad for _Catherine_. And for you, Mr. Grissom?"

"Blackened chicken sandwich."

"And Tawny…" Catherine changed to a devious tone. "Later, we'll need two orders of Strawberry topped cheesecake to go…extra sauce…extra whipped cream. Pack the containers separately in those cooler bags you have."

"Got it." She tossed an all-knowing wink.

Once Tawny walked away, Grissom asked, "Okay, is there a movie I should be watching to explain this cheesecake thing?"

The combination of his bewildered expression and the pathetic question propelled Catherine into a fit of laughter.

**30,000 feet over Kansas  
****11:35 a.m.**

While Carrie was using the airplane restroom at the front of the cabin, Nick rifled through his carry-on to find their passports. He hoped that Carrie had figured out his plan and was yanking his chain about the 'I never want to go to Paris' thing. "Damn it!" It was true. Her passport was expired. He shoved them bag in the bag, cursing himself for not checking.

After stuffing the carry-on under the seat, he closed his eyes. If I knew the passport was expired I would have asked her to renew it. But how would that have helped because she still would have hated the idea of going to Paris. As of right now she doesn't know we were going to Paris and she's excited about going to New York. The problem is we don't have any reservations in New York. Unless…I could make reservations on the sly. Then she would be none the wiser. Yeah…

"I'm back." Carrie announced before kissing Nick's cheek and sliding past him to the window seat.

"My turn." As he reached to unbuckle his seat belt, suddenly the 'fasten seat belt' sign flicked on and the pilot's voice boomed over the intercom…

_Howdy folks, this is Captain McKay. I just got a call I've been waiting on and well…I'm afraid I'm going to have to make a pit stop due to a faulty indicator light. We aren't in any danger, it's just protocol. We need to pull in and have it checked. Sorry about the inconvenience. The crew has print outs regarding your connections and will be coming to speak with you about options for your connecting flights. I'll keep you posted on when and where we're going to land. Thank you._

Carrie smiled at Nick. "Good thing we don't have a connecting flight."

"Mr. Stokes." Vanessa, from the flight crew, flashed her requisite sunny smile. "I see you have a connecting flight to Paris at…

"You're taking me to Paris!" Carrie shrieked. "Oh my god, that's so awesome!"

"What!" Nick was dumbfounded. "Yes, I was, but you said you hated Paris."

"I wouldn't hate it _with you_!" She gushed while bobbing in her seat. "That is the most romantic thing I've ever heard of. You were sneaking me to Paris because on our first date we had that moment in front of the fake Eiffel Tower in Vegas! I can't believe you! I love you!"

Vanessa sighed, "Awww, is that true?"

Proudly, Nick admitted it was his great idea. "Yes, but we can't go because someone didn't renew her passport." Turning to Carrie he explained, "I had Wendy snatch it for me but I didn't think to check the expiration date. Sorry, Baby."

"So you won't need a new connecting flight?" Vanessa confirmed while already walking away.

"No." He sighed.

"What were we going to do in Paris?" Carrie asked, still beaming from the revelation.

"Eat French food that would make you sick." He replied, trying to laugh his way out of the funk. "And a few other things."

_Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Captain McKay again. We've been routed to Dallas. We should land in about forty-five minutes. Thank you for your patience. _

Deciding to make the most of the situation, Nick cracked a loving grin. "Carrie, would you like to meet my family?"

"Yes!"

His grin expanded. Say it just like that when we're in Dallas, Honey.

* * *

_Next Chapter: Night and Day – Part 2 _

_Teaser…It's all in the delivery!_


	19. Night and Day Part 2

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

"**Night and Day – Part 2"**

**July 29, 2005 (Day 98)  
****Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport  
****1:05 p.m. Central**

At the baggage claim, while Carrie looked for their luggage, Nick held his cell phone to his ear waiting for someone to pick up at his parents' house. "Mom! It's Nicky."

"Hello, stranger." She scolded in a loving tone. "I'm surprised you remembered the phone number."

He sighed, knowing she was disappointed. "It's been a while since I called."

"Or visited."

"That's why I'm calling!" Leaning against the wall, he dropped his carryon. "I'm at Dallas International. I'm coming to see you and Dad."

"Fantastic! Dad is out of town, but I'll call your sisters, and I'll have Maria prepare your favorite dinner and..."

"Mom! Hold up." Watching Carrie from across the luggage carousel, he suddenly felt bad for springing his family on her. "I'm bringing someone with me so I'd kinda like to keep it low key for her sake."

"Are you bringing a _girl_ home to meet us? You've never done that before, Nicky." The questions came fast. "Does this mean my baby boy is finally settling down? Is she educated? Is she a liberal? Does she have a ring on her finger?"

Shaking his head, he replied, "Yes, yes, yes, yes, and not yet, but hopefully soon." Her joyous shriek was so loud he had to pull the phone from his ear. "We'll be there in about an hour, Mom. Love you. Bye." When he tucked his cell phone away he sighed. "This is going to be interesting." For a moment, he considered proposing _before_ he introduced her to the family, just so she'd be locked into the deal because he knew his sisters had an arsenal of information on him and wouldn't hesitate to spill it all to Carrie.

From the carousel, Carrie yelled over, "Is there a big burly Texan who can help this li'l lady with her bags?"

Before Nick could reply, two men in cowboy hats rushed to Carrie's rescue.

"We'd be happy to, Miss." The one in the black hat replied through a million watt smile.

Flustered by the rugged men in rodeo gear grabbing the luggage, she giggled. "Oh! I…thank you but…"

"Hey!" Nick hurried over. "Sorry fellas, but the lady was talking to me."

"Sorry for the misunderstanding." The men tipped their hats before walking away.

"You're not in Vegas anymore, Sweetie." Nick kissed her cheek. "You play 'little lady looking for a cowboy' and the longhorns will stampede."

**Downtown Vegas  
****12:20 p.m. Pacific**

Driving the truck back from the scene with Mindy, Sara realized she hadn't eaten anything since nibbling on her chocolate chip muffin this morning. "You ready for a quick break? I'm starving."

"You must be, because my sister is pregnant and she needs to eat ten times a day and you haven't eaten once." Realizing her mistake, she apologized. "I'm so sorry. It's none of my business."

"It's okay. Trust me, I know it's hard to tune out the gossip." Sara flashed a reassuring smile. "I didn't get married because I got pregnant."

Relieved she didn't blow it with the temporary boss, Mindy smiled. "To answer your question, yes, I'm hungry too. I'm a vegetarian though so if we could…."

"Me too."

"Well…my aunt and uncle have a restaurant about a block from here called The Madras Café and they do take out."

"I used to get take out from there all the time!" Back when I had absolutely no social life. I'd come home alone, eat some take out and wish I had someone to talk to about my day. Not missing those times! "Yeah, let's do it." She turned the corner and parked in front of the eatery.

When they left the truck, Mindy said, "I should warn you about my uncle, he's pretty old school. He doesn't like me being a CSI." She opened the door. "You'll see."

When they walked inside, Sara breathed in the curry and craved everything on the menu simultaneously. Hmm…maybe there is hope that test will be positive next week.

"Hi, Uncle." Mindy greeted the man behind the counter.

Heated words in a Bombay accent flew from the man's mouth. "Well if it isn't my crazy niece Jasminder, who runs around playing super cop, trying to find prints of fingers and picking through trash cans. How many times do I have to tell you that no man will ever marry a woman who carries a gun? And look at your hair! Where is all your hair?"

"It's called a bob, Uncle."

"A woman with a haircut named after a man?" Throwing his arms in the air, he shouted, "What does that mean?"

Sara immediately understood what Mindy meant about her uncle being old school.

"Uncle, this is my co-worker, Sara. She carries a gun and she's married."

Happy for the opportunity to display her wedding band, Sara thrust her left hand forward.

"To a man?"

"Yes." Chuckling, Sara replied. "A wonderful man as a matter of fact. I couldn't be happier."

Mindy's uncle groaned. "Then why are you still working instead of having babies?"

"I'm a good multi-tasker." When the man huffed off, Sara turned to her co-worker. "So, Jasminder is your full name."

"Yeah, I thought Mindy would get me picked on less but they started calling me Minnie, which I hate."

"A new nickname might help. Something more…" Sara considered it for a moment. "How about Jas?"

"I like that."

"Okay, Jas, you do the ordering, but lunch is on me." Pointing to the door, she said, "I'm going to check my messages. Be right back."

**The Grissoms'  
****12:30 Pacific **

Upon entering the house, Grissom walked straight to the kitchen and stuck the container of chilled cheesecake in the fridge, while wondering what _exactly_ he was supposed to do with it.

It was a familiar old routine…come home alone carrying one take out box and have no one to talk to about the day. Then he saw his wedding ring and remembered, the solitude was only temporary, the take out would be shared with his wife, and they would most certainly discuss the day's events.

Noting the voicemail light on the phone, he turned on the speaker and played the message.

_Mr. Grissom this is Lauren from Dr. Roth's office…_

"Not again." He gripped the edge of the counter and lowered his head in shame.

_I'm calling to let you know you missed your **twice** rescheduled appointment. Only because I realize your job with the crime lab is unpredictable at times am I willing to try this again. Please call to reschedule your hearing evaluation as soon as you get this message. A bill for the missed appointment is in the mail. Thank you. _

Then he remembered the one advantage to solitude…no one to yell at you. Recalling Sara's reaction when he forgot the last appointment, he reached to delete the message so _the wife_ wouldn't have a fit. But at the last second he paused, thinking…I really do need a kick in the ass about this because I know I'm avoiding it. Hmm…

Sixty seconds later he hit the delete button and set off for the bedroom to get some much needed rest.

As he walked through the bedroom door unbuttoning his shirt, the house phone rang so he walked over to the dresser to grab the cordless. "Hello there." He looked forward to hearing her voice.

"Hi. I was calling to see how was your doctor's appointment went."

His mouth dropped open. Apparently with marriage, came a sixth sense…ability to bust your husband.

"Honey?" She said, "Can you hear me? Is my cell…"

"Yes. Uh…the doctor's office called to reschedule." It wasn't a lie. He just didn't say _why_ they had to reschedule.

"Why did they have to reschedule?"

Unbelievable! "You know, it was one of those mishaps. Um…how is your work day going, Honey?" Hopefully she'd be eager to talk about herself, because lying about the appointment wasn't an option and telling the truth would make her angry.

"It's going great! I mean, everyone is still talking crap about me, but the actual job part is awesome. You want to hear a little about the case we're working?"

Happy to be off the hook, he enthusiastically replied, "Absolutely."

**Dallas  
****2:35 Central**

In the back of the taxi, Nick gave Carrie's hand a squeeze. "Don't worry, my mom is going to love you."

"You think?" She was trembling in anticipation.

"I didn't want to mention this because well…it sounds kind of creepy but, you are very similar to my mom in a lot of ways."

"It's not creepy." Chuckling, she said, "But I'll let you know if I think it's a compliment _after_ I meet your mom."

"You won't have to wait long, here we are."

As the taxi navigated the circular driveway, Carrie exclaimed, "My gosh, Nick, your parents' home is…enormous." The gorgeous red brick ranch with a six car garage and rolling green lawn dominated the neighborhood.

"I'm glad you fell in love with me before you knew about the family fortune." He didn't even have the cab door open before ten adults and twelve children rushed out of the house, down the stairs and towards the vehicle.

Carrie's eyes flew open as she watched them all flapping their arms and heard them excitedly shouting. "This is like that scene from My Big Fat Greek Wedding. All that's missing is a lamb on a spit in the front yard."

"What can I say…they like me," Nick cracked a huge grin and helped his future fiancée out of the cab. "Hi, everyone. This is Carrie Blake."

"Carrie!" They all shouted back before swarming her.

"I'm here too," Nick yelled as they ignored him.

**Crime Lab  
****3:56 p.m. Pacific**

Sara walked into the lab with the Rickert file, pleased to find Nina alone in the room. "Hi. I got your request. Can you tell me why you want to close the Rickert case?"

Without looking up from the microscope, she replied, "Because we've got nothing and there's nothing to get."

"You only went to the apartment once."

"I'm thorough." She snapped.

Setting the file down on the counter, Sara said, "I only claim I'm thorough when I find an answer."

Looking up, Nina folded her arms across her chest. "Well I'm not _you._ I bet there are a lot of _things_ you do, that I would find...inappropriate."

"We are still talking about work, right?"

"Work related matters." Relentless in her desire to speak her mind, she postured. "You want an example of a difference between you and me?"

"I'd love one." Sara stiffened, readying herself for whatever was coming.

Through a smile, Nina delivered her low blow. "I didn't sleep with my supervisor to get to CSI 3."

"Excuse me?" Sara was aghast at the bold accusation. Until now everything was behind her back or less severe.

"Do you have a hearing problem? Because I thought my statement was crystal clear." Standing up, Nina postured. "No one else has the guts to say it to your face, but they're all thinking it."

Fighting to retain her composure, Sara replied, "I didn't get where I am by _sleeping _anywhere. I got where I am by losing sleep working cases." Stepping closer, her tone heated. "You know who I gave it to all these years? _The victims._ I gave them my blood, sweat and quite often my tears."

Not impressed, Nina huffed, "Yeah…how are you going to prove that?"

Sara grabbed the file and flipped it open. "How about I start with pointing out how you missed critical evidence in the Rickert case. Look at this photo. Did you collect all the evidence in this photo?"

Nina begrudgingly glanced at it.

When she didn't get an answer, Sara kept going. "I went over the inventory and can answer the question for you. Your answer is no. Not very thorough, were you?" She slapped the file back on the table. "I hope you didn't have any plans for after shift because you're heading back to that apartment." With that, she marched out of the lab.

Once in the hallway, she heard Brass's voice. "The ol' Sara Sidle dominatrix smack down."

"Too unprofessional?" Sara cringed.

"Are you kidding?" He came to her side. "I'm one proud papa."

**The Stokes' Kitchen  
****7:30 p.m. Central**

While Carrie was in the pool with two of his sisters and their kids, Nick sat at the kitchen table with his mom.

"Want a chocolate chip cookie?" She teased, as she tucked her thick brown hair behind her ears. "Maria made a fresh batch today."

"Actually, yes." He hoped the familiar ritual would put him at ease for popping the question later tonight.

Always happy to please her baby boy, she got up from the table. "Carrie is a fantastic woman."

"I'm a lucky guy."

"Yes, you are, considering how flakey you've always been with women. I've never understood that about you Nicky, because you're so responsible in every other way." Shaking her head, she grabbed a plate from the cabinet and set the cookies on it.

Of course she didn't and there was no sense in telling her his secret now, it would only devastate her. "I know some of my behavior disappointed you but, things are different now and well…can we just agree the past is the past?"

"Yes, of course." Smiling she placed the plate in front of him. "Carrie sounds like a brilliant attorney. I tried to trip her up a few times and had no success."

"She's way smarter than me I'm afraid." He laughed. "And yet, she still wants me…or so I'm hoping to confirm later tonight."

"Milk?"

"Why not go for the whole memory?"

"In that case, should I fetch your old blankie from storage?"

Laughing, he dropped his head in his hand. "I don't think we have to go that far."

Setting the glass of milk on the table, she took her seat. "You're absolutely sure about proposing, right? You do understand that Stokes men marry for life?"

"Yes, ma'am." He raised his glass. "I've never been more certain about anything in my life."

"I love you, Nicky." Out of nowhere, tears welled up in her eyes.

"I love you too, Mom." Reaching out, he placed his hand on hers.

"You're the last one…my baby." Chuckling, she wiped her tears. "I can't believe I'm blubbering like this. I have a reputation, you know."

"Toughest PD this town will ever see." Nick handed her his napkin. "Here you go, hard ass."

"Better I get it out now than at the wedding when there are photographers." She sniffled. "Are you going to have a big wedding?"

"Mom!" He brought his index finger to his mouth. "Don't jinx me, I haven't even proposed yet. She could say no."

"If she breaks your heart, she'll have to answer to this old broad and it won't be pretty. No one hurts my baby boy and gets away with it."

Grabbing a cookie, he smiled, "Thanks, mom."

"Maria made the cookies." She dotted her eyes one more time.

His voice cracked. "No…for everything you've ever done for me."

"Nicholas Graham Stokes, stop making me cry!" She lunged for another napkin. "Don't make me send you to your room."

"Uh oh…the middle name. I'm in trouble."

**The Grissoms'  
****7:35 p.m. Pacific**

Sara sailed into the house on cloud nine. After a fantastic first day as acting supervisor, she couldn't wait to enjoy her first evening at home with her husband…even if it was only for two hours. "I'm home!" She had called ten minutes ago and given him an ETA as he requested.

"I'm in my office." Grissom flatly replied.

Slightly disappointed that he didn't rush to see his bride, she turned down the hall to find him. Once in the doorway of his office, her disappointment grew. There he was, head buried in paperwork, still wearing his black velour bath robe from after his shower. "Hi," She greeted in a gloomy tone.

"Sorry, Honey, I didn't see you there." He didn't get up from his chair. "I noticed something on this report and it's bugging me. I hope you don't mind. I need about a half hour."

Stunned they would be losing one-fourth of their time together today, she stammered. "Sure…um…okay. You have to do it, right?"

"Afraid so." Looking up, he asked, "Weren't you going to shower anyway?"

"Yeah." She forced a smile. "I'll uh…grab a shower and we'll catch up after you finish your work."

His head already back in the stack of papers, he replied, "Thanks."

Deflated, she moped down the hallway toward the bedroom. Work is work but this was their first evening together at home as husband and wife. He seemed so excited about it this morning. Brushing it off as a personality quirk, she sighed. After all, she was a perfectionist too and had been known to get caught up in details to the point of excluding the world around her. But damn! Her bruised ego countered. Don't rationalize this! You only have two hours and this is a special evening. He could have _at least_ got up off his ass and kissed you hello.

Just when she was about to accept married life as anti-climatic, she opened the door of the bedroom and was overwhelmed by the flicker of candles and the scent of Vanilla Bean Noel wafting in the air. "He tricked me," she mumbled as she headed for the tub.

Once inside the bathroom suite, she broke into an uncontainable grin of delight. The marble garden tub was filled with bubbles. On one corner of the tub were a dozen red roses, on another, a glass of herbal iced tea, on the third, a copy of Entomology Today, and in the last corner, a note labeled, _To my wife…_

After rapidly shedding her clothes, she slipped into the steaming tub of sweetly scented water, releasing a blissful sigh.

Reaching over, she grabbed the note…

_My beautiful wife, _

_I believe you'll find everything you requested in order to relax after a long day at the office…a bubble bath, some herbal tea and a good read. The flowers were my idea. I hope you enjoy your Happy Hour. I'll check on you in a few minutes just in case you require any additional items or services. _

_- Your loving husband_

She read the sentiment a second time while sipping the rejuvenating tea.

Placing the note back in its corner, she stared at the words, _To my wife, _still slightly shocked that they had dashed out and married yesterday. All it took was one glance at her ring to remind her of the beautiful truth.

"Relaxed yet?" Grissom asked as he quietly entered the room.

"You got me."

"I know. I have a marriage certificate to prove it." Leaning against the counter he drank in her smile. "Welcome home, Honey."

"Thank you for the surprise."

"You're welcome." Stuffing his hands in his robe pockets, he announced, "I'm sure you're anxious to plow through that copy of Entomology Today so I'll leave you to it."

"Get back here," She whimsically commanded while splashing the water with her palm. "Join me."

Happy to return but uncomfortable with her offer, he groveled. "I…uh…I'll stay out here and admire the view."

"We've lived in this house for how long? Come on…we have this gigantic tub and we've yet to share it." Splashing the water again, she goaded him. "We're married now, it's legal."

"I'm not really a bubble bath guy."

Sitting with half of her body strategically above the bubble line, she said in a sultry tone, "Do you have any idea how much action this tub probably saw when the mob boss owned this place. Nothing we do could make this tub blush."

His cheeks flushing, he blurted, "So aggressive."

"Is that what you think?" Slipping under the bubbles up to her neck, she chuckled. "It's like suddenly today I feel comfortable in my skin. I'm not hiding my personal life anymore and it's very freeing. I'm wearing a wedding ring and I have no doubts about our relationship or my place in your life. Today, I went to work and in spite of many people trying to bring me down, I persevered…no…I kicked ass!" Grinning from ear to ear she addressed his original comment. "It's not aggression…it's confidence. Not something I've always been guilty of having so maybe it is a little shocking."

Knowing her history and how important her statements were, his voice softened, "I like seeing you confident."

"I needed your help to get there."

"And now?"

Smirking, she changed the tone of the conversation. "Now I need you to get in this tub."

"Anything else?"

"You didn't want to go out on the dance floor but you liked that. Here in the bathroom you don't even have an audience."

He really couldn't pinpoint why it felt so awkward, it just did. "Sara I…"

"I'll sing for you," She taunted him. "A new verse to _our _song."

"It won't work," He started laughing.

"_Don't you know that baths can be so lonely…when you're without the one you need…How much longer do I have to go…waiting for you to bathe with me_!"

"That's good."

"Good enough to get you to join me?"

Then he realized just how he could use the little treat he had waiting in the fridge. "Did I mention I brought cheesecake home for you? Want me to get it?"

"Cheesecake?" Her ears perked. "Yeah, I'm starving."

Happy his bubble bath avoidance tactic worked, he waltzed out of the room, pausing only for a moment to shout back. "Oh, and there's a present for you on the bed….actually, it's in the bed under the covers because I didn't want you to see it."

Stepping out of the draining tub, she toweled off and then wrapped another towel around her body while thinking, he got out of sharing my bath this time, but I'll get him in there yet.

Letting her hair down out of its clip, she strolled into the bedroom. When she tossed back the covers, she saw their wedding photo in a beautiful silver frame. "Perfect." Admiring it, she set it on the nightstand and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

After several minutes lost in thought, she saw Grissom enter the room carrying a plate heaping with delicious dessert toppings. "Is the cheesecake buried under all that whipped cream and strawberry sauce?"

"Supposedly. I just slid it from the box to the plate, so I didn't actually see it." He took a seat next to her and handed her a fork, leaving a second fork on the plate.

"Let's pretend it's our wedding cake, so we only need one fork." She tossed the other one behind her. "Feed me."

Taking the fork in his hand, he scooped through the billowy cream and brought the pile to her mouth. Of course, since it was so gooey, a portion of the dessert missed Sara's mouth and slipped down her chin.

Laughing, she fell back against the sheets, wiping the mess and licking her fingertips. "Delicious. More please."

Once again Grissom filled his fork but this time, since she was lying down, he had to guide it over her towel-wrapped body towards her mouth. Of course, since it was so drippy and because he had a longer distance to cover, the majority of the decadent treat never made it to its destination. Instead it left a trail over the towel, onto her skin and down her chin.

"You missed again," She chuckled while waiting for him to help her out of the mess, but, much to her disappointment, he wasn't making a move. Taking it upon herself, Sara tugged open the towel and used the corner to wipe her chin.

Grissom locked his eyes on the whipped cream trail and suddenly recalled Catherine's words about the cheesecake. _Just bring it home and see where it leads…**literally**._

"Honey? You have that look on your face. The one you get when you solve something that's been bugging you."

"How about a little more?" He replied while thrusting the fork into the lush dessert. Of course, his delivery efforts led to the same sloppy result but, instead of hitting the towel, which was no longer in the way, now the sweets scattered directly on Sara's silky skin. "Sorry," he announced without _any conviction_ in his voice. Setting the plate on the bed, he swooped in for a taste off her lips before following the luscious path.

Once Sara's mouth was free, she gasped, startled by her husband's hungry kisses, roaming hands, and his heretofore unknown love of whipped cream and strawberry sauce. "Don't use all of it on me because, I plan on showing you some _symmetry_," she breathlessly warned when she saw him reach for another scoop. "Oh!" The chilly topping clashed with her heated body, sending a delightful shiver through her.

Sara, grinning wildly as Grissom's mouth consumed a strategically placed dollop of dessert, thought, now this is what I call Happy Hour!

**The Stokes'  
****10:32 p.m. Central**

In the living room of his childhood home, Nick sat in an arm chair listening to his two youngest sisters, Barbara and Karen, expound on his childhood embarrassments to Carrie, who was perched in between them, loving every minute of it. And it wasn't just stories they were sharing, they were entering photos into evidence.

"Check out Nicky in his Spiderman underwear! He really thought he was Spiderman too." Karen gleefully announced. "Barb, remember the time he took that ball of string and webbed his entire room?"

Barbara tossed her head back laughing. "Oh my god…I do remember that! He tried to jump from his bed into the tangled string and wound up spraining his wrist when he landed on the ground. He missed T-ball try-outs because of the injury and Dad was ticked."

Carrie glanced at her man who was pretending to read a copy of Newsweek magazine. "Is that why you became a CSI, Honey? So you could take care of bad guys like Spidey?" She joined in the laughter.

Looking up from the magazine, he casually said, "I'm sorry, I was reading. What did you say, Honey?"

Karen decided to sing her brother's childhood theme song. "Spiderman, Spiderman, friendly neighborhood Spiderman. Spins a web…in his bedroom. Catches thieves in his dreams. Look out! Here comes Nicky in his underwear!"

Carrie started choking from laughing so hard.

Nick groaned. "Great, Karen, you're killing my girlfriend with your voice."

Carrie grabbed her beer to wet her raw throat. "I can totally picture it all."

"Great," Nick grumbled. "That will help our sex life."

Carrie, finally recovered, growled, "I'll be your Mary Jane Watson anytime, Baby."

Just then his mom entered the room. "I didn't hear that."

Barbara jumped right in. "Like you didn't already know about Nicky's sex life." Looking at Carrie, she explained, "Mom caught Nicky in his bedroom with Traci Thomas, sophomore year of high school."

Covering his face with his hands, Nick wished he could disappear. "Not that story. Anything but that."

"It was his first time." Barbara explained.

Carrie questioned. "How many times was he caught?"

"No. You misunderstood." Barbara cracked up. "He got busted right in the middle of his de-virginization! I was away at college, but Karen was home."

"Oh!" Then she looked at Nick. "Oh!"

Slouching further in the chair, Nick said, "Someone shoot me now!"

Karen added her two cents. "It's funny now, but at the time, whoa...I've never seen Mom so ticked. I guarantee, no one has ever heard a 'not under my roof' speech like the one coming from the tough as nails PD who just caught her baby boy in the sack."

"Why didn't I bring my firearm with me?" Nick sighed. "I could be out of my misery by now."

"The terrified girl went running from the room with her clothes. To this day, I'm not even sure she put them on before she left the house!" Trying to get her words out through her laughter, she continued. "Mom yelled at Nick to get dressed and meet her in the hallway and said, 'and you better have an empty condom wrapper to show me when you step outside the door!'"

Finally seeing some humor in the moment, Nick said, "It was the first time I had to find evidence at the scene of a crime!"

While everyone was laughing, Barbara's pager went off. "I've been waiting for this call. Mrs. Henderson has been in labor for hours. It's finally time for me to yank that baby out." Standing up, she said, "I'll see you tomorrow Carrie, and I promise to tell you a few more juicy tidbits."

"Good night." Carrie stood up to hug her. "Thank you for welcoming me."

Barbara winked at Nick. "You can thank me later, bro."

"Don't hold your breath."

"Night!" Barbara hurried for the door.

Mrs. Stokes walked over to Karen. "Maybe we should all give Carrie and Nick a rest. They have to be tired from their trip."

Nick crossed the room. "Not to mention exhausted from the trip down memory lane!" Plus there was still a very important question he had to ask. "Aren't your husband and kids at home waiting for you, Karen?" Grabbing his sister's hand he yanked her to her feet. "How about moseying along?"

"Yeah, I gave you enough grief for one night." She hugged Carrie. "I'll see you tomorrow. That is, if you don't change your mind about staying now that you know about Nicky's humiliating past."

"Could happen." Carrie teased. "Good night."

Mrs. Stokes took her daughter's arm. "I'll walk you to your car."

Once Carrie and Nick were alone in the room, he said. "Want me to call the airport shuttle while you pack your bag?"

"Okay." The look on his face made her grin. "Are you kidding? After seeing how much your family loves you and how much you love your mom, I only love you more."

"In that case." He took her hand. "Would you like to stroll the grounds of the estate with me?"

"Love to."

"I'm uh…going to run up to our room and grab a sweater for you." Because I need to get the ring!

"It's July. I don't need a sweater."

But I need to get the ring! "Did I say sweater?" He forced a laugh. "I meant blanket…so we can sit and watch the stars. Maybe catch a shooting one and make a wish."

"Smooth Stokes."

"Can you go in the kitchen and grab us a couple of beers."

"Sure." She pecked his cheek with her lips. "I'll meet you on the back porch."

"Okay." He started down the hall. "Hey, Carrie. Do you _really_ like my family?"

"Yes!"

His whole face spread into a smile. "Say it just like that when I ask you later, Baby."

* * *

_Next Episode: Night and Day Part 3 of 3_

_Teaser: Who says yes and who says no?_


	20. Night and Day Part 3

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

"**Night and Day – Part 3 of 3"**

**July 29, 2005 (Day 98)  
****The Grissoms'  
****8:55 p.m. Pacific**

In a steamy tub brimming with bubbles, Sara, grinning like a Cheshire cat who just enjoyed a bowl of fresh cream, reclined against her husband's chest. "So, what are you thinking?"

"I'm not sure I am yet." He sighed pleasurably while wrapping his arms around his wife's soapy body.

Resting her head on his shoulder, she said, "It's nice to know your overactive analytical brain gets a much deserved rest every time we get randy."

"I think of it as a mental vacation in paradise." His laughter ensued once more. "And the trip I just took was _extremely_ pleasurable."

Feigning an ignorant tone, she inquired, "What was your favorite part?"

He scooped a handful of water and poured it over her head to rinse away some remnants of strawberry sauce. "You want the politically savvy answer or do you want the truth?"

Wiping a patch of bubbles off her face, she replied, "You stink at politics."

"Very true, so why even try?" He released another scoop of water. "I really enjoyed your demonstration of the principle of symmetry, but since you're a bright woman, I'm guessing you already surmised that."

"Uh yeah…you gave me enough evidence to figure it out." Splashing water in his face, she teased, "It's interesting how, even with diminished brain capacity you manage to keep talking."

"Obviously the Broca's Area of my Frontal Lobe is bypassed during the shut down process."

"Obviously." She rolled her eyes. "After all those years of not telling me how you feel, you've come a long way."

"Well…" Moving her wet hair off her shoulder, he brought his lips to her ear. "When I'm comfortable, I don't have a problem expressing myself and you've made me very comfortable."

Knowing his comment pertained not only to how she made him feel in the bedroom, but in their relationship as a whole, she smiled. "When I asked you before what you were thinking, I meant, are you still _not _a bubble bath kind of guy, or are you deriving some pleasure from the experience? Are you _comfortable_?"

"It's not something I'd do alone but, I don't think you'll have any problem getting me in here _with you_ in the future." Nibbling on her neck, he said, "And you won't even have to get me sticky with whipped cream and strawberry sauce to coerce me into it."

Playfully she replied, "Then I'll just do that part for fun."

"If you insist." Cupping her cheek, he stole a kiss.

"Mmm…" Now she took a turn washing away the sauce in his hair. "You look like you used some of Greg's hair gel."

Flicking water from his eyes, he groaned, "Honey, I'd prefer to leave Greg out of our pillow talk...tub talk…any talk we have while naked."

"Fair enough." She doused him again. "Did you catch the tub scene in Pretty Woman when you were getting tutored on taking me to the opera?"

"No, I only watched on a 'need to know' basis."

"Might have got you in here sooner." Turning to check the state of his appearance, she carefully inspected him. "You can't have sauce in your hair when you head to the office. Every time I walked down the hall today, I felt eyes inspecting me from head to toe. I think they were hoping to find my shirt tail untucked or love bites on my neck…anything to fuel the scandal once they learned I wasn't pregnant."

"Very clever way to prove that, by the way." He wondered how she was going to do it and when he heard the details he was quite impressed.

"Thank you." Sliding slightly so she could look at him, Sara said, "Next time I test, I'm looking forward to you being with me instead of Greg and Hodges."

"Honey, now you're talking about Greg _and_ Hodges while we're naked."

"I blame the Broca's Area of my Frontal Lobe."

"I agree with your statement. When you're testing for real, I want to find out the same time as you." Smiling, he glided his hand over her stomach. "And we'll know soon. If it worked, I'll be thrilled. If it didn't…" Salaciously, he said, "I really won't mind another month of trying."

"Considering our new schedule, when will we find the time? I guess we'll have to have a standing Happy Hour date. The books I've read said during the critical week, a daily schedule is best."

"I believe everything I read so, I'll follow the recommendation of a daily schedule without complaint."

Sighing, she said, "Speaking of schedules…"

He droned, "Is it that time already?"

Teasing, she said, "Have you started thinking again, or are you still blissed out and incoherent because you'll need your brain to do your job."

"I'm almost recovered." He laughed. "This new Happy Hour schedule of ours will make me a very agreeable guy at the office. I'm going to show up very relaxed."

"Don't worry, I'm sure everyone will appreciate the difference!" Quickly she took a breath before he plunged her head completely underwater.

**The Stokes'  
****11:14 p.m. Central **

Hand in hand, Nick and Carrie strolled through manicured landscape surrounding the Stokes's home.

"Nick, are you still looking for a place to lay down the blanket?" They had passed up several nice places already.

"Um…" When he pulled the ring out of the box and slipped it in his pocket a little while ago, suddenly the reality hit him. I'm proposing marriage! This is it! Forever! But I want forever with Carrie. I can't imagine life without her. Oh my god! What if she says no! Don't be ridiculous, you know she wants it as badly as you do.

"Honey?" Was it the moonlight, she wondered, or was the blood really draining from his face. "Are you okay? You look a little sick."

"Um…" Irrational insecurities aside, there was still another huge problem. Before leaving for the trip, Nick rehearsed his proposal dozens of times. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect…perfect for Paris! The problem of course being they weren't in Paris. They were in Dallas at his childhood home. So, mentioning the Eiffel Tower and Carrie's line from their first date, _we'll always have Paris_, would be a little out of context.

Sensing Nick was no longer up for a walk, she sweetly said, "Maybe we should return to the house and get some rest?"

"No!" He vehemently blurted.

"Okaaay." Trying desperately to figure out his problem, she thought maybe she'd tease it out of him. "If you're embarrassed about what your sisters told me, please don't be. I never thought you were a virgin when we met…" Running her fingertip over his bottom lip, she purred, "….and I certainly didn't think it after making love with you the first time."

Even though he was nearing serious coronary failure, her words made him smile. "It's not that."

"Then what is wrong?"

"It's…we're not supposed to be here." Heavily he sighed. "We're supposed to be in Paris…a romantic place."

"Honestly." She took his hand. "This trip is much more meaningful to me than Paris. I've been to Paris. I've never been taken to meet the family of a man I love. Of course, I've never loved anyone before, so that may have something to do with it."

Sensing the moment was right, he began. "Carrie, there's something…" When he felt the first drops of rain strike his face, he couldn't believe his horrible luck. "Damn it!" Glaring at the darkening sky above, he yelled, "What the hell do you have against me!"

"It's really okay." Carrie gave his hand a squeeze. "We'll go back to the house and…"

"No!" His free hand slapped his rain streaked face. "I can't in there."

"Afraid your mom is going to catch us and we won't have a condom to produce?" Giggling, she whispered, "Don't worry, I'll ask for a continuance and fax her copies of our negative STD test results and my birth control prescription, when we return home."

Nick stared into Carrie's eyes. She really doesn't know I'm about to propose. Oh my god! Why? Isn't it on her mind? Didn't she consider it was the reason I was taking her on this trip? Does her inability to guess the reason mean she's not in the same place as me? Is she going to say no!

"Sweetie…I'm getting soaked, here."

Grabbing her hand, he said, "Come with me," as he dashed across the lawn.

A couple of minutes later they were in the stables.

"Wow." Carrie twisted her hair, wringing the water out. "That storm came out of nowhere."

"Welcome to Texas in July." He grumbled while walking into the supply room. "There should be towels in here." When he spotted them, he grabbed a few and returned. "To dry off."

As she tussled her hair, she remarked, "Smells good in here."

"And I thought strolling on the lawn was unromantic. Now we're trapped with a bunch of smelly horses."

Suddenly a large white mare whinnied.

"Sorry, Cleo." Nick shouted. But I'm not happy about this! I can't propose marriage in a smelly stable! Then he glanced over at Carrie, her wet white blouse, clinging to her damp skin, and her brown hair curling wildly from the dampness. His desire mounting, he reached for her, pulling her close and devouring her with a kiss.

When the need for a minute of uninterrupted oxygen forced them to separate, Carrie stumbled back against the wall. "If I knew the scent of hay drove you so wild, I would have glued it to my bedroom walls months ago. I saw that on Trading Spaces once and wondered why the designer did it but now…I know."

The passionate kiss had served its purpose. Once again he was calm and confident. "I'll be right back."

"Now what?" She had never seen him act so erratic. It didn't help that thunder was rumbling in the distance and creating a volatile mood.

Once again, he disappeared into the supply room and when he reemerged this time he had a pile of blankets. "There aren't any horses at the other end. We used to have a lot more, but now Mom and Dad only have Cleo, who is Karen's, and a couple of ponies for the grandkids." Smiling, he took her hand. "Let's find a nice quiet spot."

When they reached the last stall, which was half full with bales of hay, Nick released Carrie's hand. "Now, I know what you're going to think," he announced while grabbing a hay bale and unleashing its contents on the ground. "You're thinking…Smooth Stokes has done this before." He reached for the next one and scattered it.

"Now that you mention it…" Leaning against the wall, she watched him build the love nest. "You do seem rather skilled."

"But I haven't…" He decided one more would be best. "After the incident you heard about earlier I never brought another girl onto my parents' property again." Reaching down he grabbed two of the blankets and spread them over the hay pile. "Try it out and tell me if it's comfortable enough."

Carrie sat down and mashed the blankets. "As perfect as a bed of hay can get." She tossed her wet sandals.

With the two remaining blankets in hand, Nick took a seat next to Carrie, kicking off his shoes and tugging off his damp socks. "That's better."

"Much."

"So." He inhaled sharply.

"Are you going to take off your wet clothes?" Carrie asked, slightly surprised they weren't already peeling each other's off.

"Not yet." He didn't want to propose in his underwear. Especially after the underwear story his sister told earlier. "I uh…" Rubbing his hands together, he fought to find his words…any words. Finally, nervous laughter manifested.

"Okay." Carrie planted her hands on her hips. "What is going on with you? Is being home making you crazy?"

"No. It's..." Damn it! I want it to be spectacular. I want to say something that will blow her away. But nothing is popping into my head. This would be so much easier in Paris! Just start talking. It will flow. "Carrie…I…I have something I want to say…I'm supposed to be saying it tomorrow night in Paris." Taking both of her hands between his, while swallowing the lump in his throat, he focused not on the thoughts swimming in his head but rather, the feelings in his heart. "From the moment I met you I felt a connection."

"And I felt one with you." Her heart skipped a beat as she finally realized why he was acting so erratic.

Locking his eyes with hers, he spoke softly. "That night, when I took you to see the sights, and we ended up on the sidewalks of Paris, my life changed. Before that night if anyone had said I would fall in love with someone on the first day I met her, I would have laughed. But that night, standing there under the Eiffel Tower with you, it happened."

"It happened for me too." Tears pooled in her eyes as she listened to his words.

"I know we've only been together a few months, and some people might not think that's enough time, but I can't wait another day…another hour. Hell, I can't wait another minute!" Releasing her hands, he dove into his pocket for the ring.

Carrie's hands rushed to her mouth. "You really are…"

"I can't wait another second!" Brimming with confidence, he held took her left hand. "Carrie Blake, I love you with all my heart and you will make me the happiest man alive if you'll agree to marry me, and spend the rest of your life with me. Please say yes."

"YES!" She shouted while throwing her arms around his neck and tackling him against the blankets.

It sounded better than all the practice ones combined. While his fiancée was choking him with a vice grip hug, he squeaked out, "Honey, don't you want me to put the ring on your finger?"

"YES!" Releasing him, she waved her left hand and waited for him to sit up.

Thrilled by the joyous expression on her face and the tears of happiness streaming down her cheeks, he excitedly glided the diamond on her finger. "It seems like it fits perfectly."

"YES!" Consumed by its beauty and meaning, she stared at her jeweled left hand with an open mouth.

Exhausted from the buildup and the moment, Nick crashed back against the blankets. "If only one thing was going to go according to plan on this trip, I'm glad it was your answer!"

**Crime Lab  
****9:52 p.m. Pacific**

On the way to the Break Room, Grissom had to pass by Mabel and Theresa who were huddled in the hallway. Taking Catherine's advice, instead of ignoring them, he smiled and politely said, "Hello."

"Did you enjoy your cheesecake earlier?" Mabel asked with a grin.

Stunned by the question, he froze. How could she tell what he just did with Sara? There was no physical evidence. Were these people that good at reading others? If so, they shouldn't be in the lab, they should be out in the field.

"Thanks for the drinks you sent us." Theresa smiled. Sensing he wasn't tracking, she clarified, "At the Cheesecake Factory today. Remember?"

"Oh!" Relieved they weren't reading his mind, he replied, "You're welcome. You do so much around here for the team I thought I would make a gesture on our behalf."

Trying to be nice to the quirky man, she made some more small talk. "So what flavor did you have?"

"Flavor?"

"What flavor Cheesecake?"

Flustered again, he hurried past them. "I didn't have any."

Mabel turned to Theresa. "Geez, for a genius, he's a little slow on the uptake."

Always up for a little speculation, Theresa offered her opinion. "Sara's what, fifteen years younger than him? Maybe more? He always seems like a nice, quiet man. Maybe keeping _up_ with a younger woman is wearing him down."

"Not if he has a prescription."

"You think?"

Mabel nodded. "I hear one of the side effects is an increase in facial hair."

"It's also been known to cause heart attacks." Suddenly a thought occurred to Theresa. "Hey, maybe she's trying to get him to keel over dead so she can grab his assets, because I heard he lives in a multi-million dollar home."

Laughing, Mabel, replied, "You know the popular saying between gold diggers in this money-loving town…first grab his _ass_, then grab his _assets_."

Theresa was reluctant to buy into the new theory. "But, come on, Sara seems too quiet to be…"

"You know what they say about the quiet ones!"

"True." Theresa sighed. "My goodness. The poor guy probably never saw it coming. One day he's sitting in his office clueless and then all of a sudden she waltzes in and asks him out. Of course, he's thrilled by the offer and says yes! They go out and that night she takes him for a toss between the sheets. Naturally, the lonely nutcase falls hopelessly in love with her. Before her, he was playing with cockroaches!"

"Ugh!" Mabel shook her head. "How long 'til the conniving bitch rips his heart out?"

"Twenty bucks says by the New Year she's filing for divorce and calculating her fifty percent share."

**Break Room  
****9:55 p.m. Pacific**

When Grissom walked into the room, he noted Warrick sitting on the couch downing an extra large cup of coffee. "How are you doing tonight, Warrick?" He wondered how much Catherine had told Warrick. Does he know I brought home cheesecake? Does he know I know Catherine brought home cheesecake for him?

"Hey, Gris." He lowered his mug. "I'm doing_ real_ fine." Catherine had told him that Grissom was bringing home their favorite dessert for Sara. "How about yourself?"

Facing the wall while pouring a cup of coffee, he grinned. "I'm fine too."

Deciding to have a little fun, Warrick said, "Yeah…you look pretty relaxed. Married life must be agreeing with you."

"Definitely." He took his mug and crossed the room to take a seat on the opposite end of the couch.

"Can't be easy with Sara's shift change. I mean…how many hours did you have alone together?"

"Just two." Grissom took a quick sip. Yeah…two glorious hours.

"Damn. That's hardly enough time to eat a piece of cheesecake." Warrick broke into an easy laugh. "But from the look on your face, I'm guessing you managed to squeeze it in."

Dying of embarrassment, Grissom attempted to will his pager to beep. Instead, he got another distraction…Greg.

"Hey party people!" Greg strutted in and hit the java.

"What's got you bouncing?" Warrick quizzed. "Or bouncing more than normal?"

"Sugar rush!" With mug in hand he joined the guys, taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table.

"What the hell did you put in your hair tonight?" Grissom groaned. "It looks more screwed up than usual."

"What?" Standing up, he went to check his reflection on the stainless steel fridge. "Ha!" He realized the problem. "That's uh…Tawny brought home cheesecake from work. Said she had a sudden urge for strawberry sauce and whipped cream." Going to the sink, he wet his hands and attempted to work out the knots. "It was some good stuff."

Grissom and Warrick exchanged knowing glances.

"I'm here but I'm not happy!" Sofia Curtis snapped as she entered the room, making a beeline for Grissom. "I don't see why my life has to change because you scratched the itch to marry your employee. Where's the justice?"

Warrick, not in the mood to have his anniversary celebration buzz killed just yet, retorted, "You're here because you're not playing well in the sandbox with your Days pals. It just worked out that Sara had to leave."

Catherine showed up late for the party. "Hey everyone…and Sofia."

Twisting a wry smile, Sofia looked at Greg. "And just because everyone else on this shift paired up, don't get any crazy ideas."

Patting down his damp de-strawberried hair, Greg replied, "Uh…you scare me actually."

**The Stable  
****12:17 a.m. Central **

Finally rid of their rain-drenched clothes, Carrie and Nick warmed underneath the blankets.

"Look at this ring on my finger," Carrie breathlessly exclaimed as she pressed her hands against Nick's chest. "I love it! I'm engaged! I can't wait to show everyone! I'm so happy! We need to set a date…"

Slipping one hand behind her neck, he urged his talkative fiancée in for a kiss, hoping to celebrate the engagement and relieve some of the tension he had accumulated.

Deciding they could talk later, Carrie refocused on the physical, letting Nick take the lead and quickly succumbing to his charms. Everything seemed more intense…every touch, every kiss and the storm brewing outside only enhanced the excitement.

Suddenly disengaging, Nick jumped up and pulled Carrie to her feet. "I don't believe this!" He wrapped a blanket around her.

"What the…"

"That siren means a tornado was spotted." Pulling a blanket around his body, he declared, "We've got to get to the shelter because this place is a death trap." Taking her by the hand, he hurried for the stable door.

Outside the winds were fierce and they fought to make it across the enormous lawn to the shelter door. Trees were bending around them and rain pelted them from above.

When they reached the shelter, Nick saw his mom running toward him. He yanked open the in-ground door and let his mom and Carrie rush down the stairs first. Then he followed, securing the lock.

"They say it could be a four!" His mother nervously exclaimed as she turned on the transistor radio.

For several minutes they listened to the weather report and when an announcement was made declaring the twister had dissipated and veered away from their path, they breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"That was so scary!" Carrie felt her heart pounding in her chest. "It was just like the movie!"

Nick pulled her close. "Welcome to Tornado country, Baby."

For the first time, Mrs. Stokes realized her son and his girlfriend were only wearing horse blankets. Jokingly she needled, "What were you two doing when the siren sounded?"

"Well, mom…" With a boyish grin, he confessed. "I don't have an empty wrapper." He took Carrie's left hand in his. "But she has a ring on her finger!"

Mrs. Stokes took one look at the gem and shrieked, "YES!"

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Thanks for reading and sharing your thoughts!

The story continues in, Caving Under Pressure, 2nd in the FS series.

Maggs


End file.
